Trapped
by mischievousmoonhunter
Summary: In an AU, the king of the kingdom Marerra passes away, leaving Elissa, the only princess, in direct line to the throne - thus also a target to the enemies of the state. Her best friend T'Challa is worried about her safety, and brings her a new protector; a legend - known as The Winter Soldier.
1. Chapter 1

Have you ever looked at a goldfish swimming around in a glass bowl, and pitied it? Have you ever thought: "What a poor creature," because it could only swim in circles, while it is being watched all the time?  
Well, no matter if you have or haven't, I am that goldfish. Don't worry, not literally, of course. I am certainly not some genetically enhanced goldfish with the ability to speak - geez , wouldn't that be annoying? Don't they say goldfish have the memory span of 3 seconds? So every time they introduce themselves, it would be like this: "Hello, I'm Dave. Nice to meet you, who are you? Hello, I'm Dave. Nice to meet you, who are you? Hello-" you get the idea.  
Anyway, I'm getting off topic. What was I saying? Right, I'm the goldfish. A figurative goldfish. So, to be clear, I don't have fins, gills, scales or a memory span of 3 seconds - I do, however, live inside a palace guarded by armed men, and I cannot go anywhere with at least one of those.  
That palace - my supersonic goldfish bowl - lies in the centre of Marerra. Were the next-door neighbours of Great Britain, only separated by a bit of water; some people call it a sea. Our "true" neighbours are Germany and France, which have been both our allies and enemies in the past; this is nothing special, I believe almost every country in Europe once fought every other contra at one point or another.  
Marerra is a beautiful country - undeniably so, with its green countrysides, vast forests and blue lakes. Not to mention the golden sand dunes at the coast.  
Sadly, I dint get to see much of it. At this point we yet again to my previous statement: I am the goldfish. However, most people call me "Princess", "your Majesty", "highness" and all that other cra- nonsense. To me, it's just Elissa. Pitifully, I'm not in charge… just yet.  
No, not pitifully; being pronounced queen is actually my biggest nightmare, so naturally, I just try to pretend it will never happen.  
"You'll just have to live forever," is what I used to tell my dad. That would solve everything.  
To conclude: all men are created equal, except those with "Royal blood". We sit on our pedestal, up in the clouds, souring above the world. Those who see us, think it must be beautiful here. Actually, you can't see much of the world below, and it can be quite cold. We can be rather lonely, far away from the Raul world.  
That is, until the real world starts banging on your door, and breathing in your neck.  
That is, until you have to run from it.


	2. Chapter 2

I was scrolling down Tumblr with a tired thumb and heavy eyes when a notification popped up at the top of my screen.  
Shouldn't you be sleeping?  
Annoyance bubbled up. I sighed, and tapped the message. A chat with my best friend opened. Above the conversation, a little sign told me he was currently online.  
Are you now watching me too, Challa?  
As usual I was too lazy to type his entire name.  
I was just checking… accompanying the words was a blushing emoji, followed by one looking rather satisfied with himself.  
I replied with an angry devil. He responded with a laughing face.  
But seriously, you should be sleeping. I didn't need any picture now to imagine the stern look he would've given me if he had been here in person.  
Who says you didn't wake me?  
Somehow I don't believe that. Will you sleep if I say please?  
I smiled a tired smile.  
Maybe… now it was me who send the self-content smiley.  
Please…? Angel with halo.  
Sigh.  
Fine…  
You're tired, aren't you?  
Nooooooo… blushing face.  
Laughing emoji again. Good night.  
Bye… sleep tight… floating zzz's  
Sweet dreams… little princess

For approximately three seconds, I held my finger on the power button, until I got the shut-down menu, asking me what I wished to do. I selected "Shut Down". My phone now wondered if I was absolutely certain, if I truly wanted that.  
'Yes,' I muttered to the tiny computer. 'King's order.'  
This time the phone gave no objection. After the screen went blank, it's mechanical insides stopped.  
With a lot of effort I reached out and put it on the bedside table, before I rolled over, drew the blankets a bit closer, and squeezed my eyes shut.  
O, yes. The pillows were cushy. The blankets cosy. The mattress perfectly balanced between soft and solid. I was ready for a good night's sleep.

'Your highness…' Urgent whispering. A voice piercing through my dreamless sleep. 'Your highness, wake up, please!' The whispering went on, growing louder, and even more urgently.  
I groaned softly. Why did they wake me? Hans Janson, my father's advisor (and the person who made sure I made it to classes and official happenings) was usually the one acting as my alarm clock. This voice, however, was female. More importantly, it was unknown to me.  
'Please, your highness, you need to wake up!' only now I had woken up enough to realise the urgency was tinted with desperation. So curious to the cause, I opened my eyes.  
A maid was standing by my bedside, holding a bathrobe in slightly trembling hands.  
'Please, come, highness. Sir Janson wishes your presence in his office.'  
Were there tears in her eyes? My brains were still trying to make sense of this all, while I was already helped into the robes. Uncomfortably I wrapped it very close around me.  
The maid then swiftly guided me towards Janson's room, even though I had gone there often enough by myself. During the journey I rubbed my eyes a lot, and blinked a lot. The entire palace seemed to be up and awake, at midnight. Footsteps echoed all around us - quick, hasty footsteps. Accompanied by rough yet muffled voices. Something must be terribly wrong.  
Yet, all I could think of, was going back to bed; my brains were sponges, my body a doll controlled by a slightly drunk puppeteer. Indeed, I do not fare well without proper sleep.

The blubbery mess that was my brain was suddenly very interested in the little doodles on the walls. Not really doodles, though, paintings. Brightly coloured works of art, even in the gloom of these early hours.  
There were waves and little ships. Waves that washed ashore, on a yellow beach. The yellow beach turned into orange dunes. Then trees popped up between the sandy hills, eventually overgrowing them completely, and the forest had conquered the openness.  
Between the thick trees and their branches, a hard wooden door appeared. The woman beside me, knocked.  
Janson's voice answered - he told us to come in. Maybe it was the thick would distorting his voice, but to me he sounded very distressed. Worse, even; he sounded beaten.  
'Princess,' Janson greeted me with a stiff nod when I shuffled into his brightly lit office. Bottles of lightning flashed back and forth in my eyes, causing a light headache in the back of my skull, before I got used to the light.' Please, sit down, your highness.' Even without the think wood in between us, his words were empty - like his eyes. A sick, uneasy feeling spread in the pit of my stomach. I was having a dejavu, a bad one. Dark memories rose up from shadowy depths I had tried to bury them.  
'Janson, what's going on?' my voice shook, almost even broke.  
Please, highness. Please, sit down.' He gestured towards the chair in front of his desk, in which I took place, my hands shaking and clamped around the cord of my robe.  
'Janson?'  
The advisor looked at his hands. His long, thin fingers pressed together. His lips also pressed together, before he opened them to speak the words that shook my world.  
'Princess… I am… I am deeply sorry to inform you… however, this night, the king, your father, passed away.'

A nightmare. Of course. That was it. My brain had taken a memory, twisted it, altered it slightly, and returned it to my unconscious mind. My stupid, unoriginal brain imploding, trying to self-destruct.  
'Princess?' I gave no answer. Instead I was staring into the distance. I thought, that if I concentrated hard enough, I could wake myself up.  
'Princess?' He was worried. He was worried about me. Well, I was alive, wasn't I? Healthy? In this palace, like he always wanted? It was my father he needed to worry about, it was my father who was dead - no, no! He wasn't. All this was just a dream.  
People tried to talk to me. People talked to one another. People talked about me. But I stayed where I was. Seated. Frozen like a statue. A marble statue; cold; not moving; not thinking. My hands twiddled with my bathrobe. My royal bathrobe.  
I would wait. Until I woke up.

Eventually quietness came upon the room. Though there still were voices whispering, they spoke very few words. Despite the tiredness, my ears caught pieces of the ongoing conversation.  
'He's coming. We immediately called him. His plane is almost here.'  
'His place has landed. He's almost here.'  
'He's arrived.'  
'Elissa.' Finally different voice. A voice I was willing to listen to.  
'Ssh,' I whispered. 'This is a dream. I have to wake up. Don't talk to me.'  
'Elissa… I understand you want to think that… but you don't. I know you don't.'  
'T'Challa…' why did he have to come tell me the truth?  
'Elissa, come. Please.' Warm hands gently forced me to stand up, and move, and walk, and then sit down again. I was back in my own room now, sitting on my bed. T'Challa was sitting next to me, trying to make me look into his eyes.  
'It is going to e all right, okay?' he said, calmly. 'You are going to be fine, I promise.'  
My lips were shaking. My throat was aching. My eyes were watering. Still, I looked up, trying to keep myself together. But when I eventually spoke, it was the desperate child inside me speaking, not my determination to stay strong.  
'But he promised me he wouldn't leave,' I squeaked, before I lost it and drowned myself in sobs and tears.


	3. Chapter 3

The first day was a complete haze. Most people left me alone - servants, security guards, minsters, clerks - they all kept their distance. Not one of them bothered me with official business. I knew this was mostly Janson's dint - probably also T'Challa's - and I was immensely grateful for it.  
T'Challa himself barely left my side, watching me like a guard dog - or perhaps a service dog. He even stood close when lab coats showed me the body. That was done quickly; a short look; a quick peak/ as if that would make it all better.  
Not even could I get close; they had to examine it, to determine the cause of death. And it would be a shame if some strange disease would wipe out the last remainder of the Meliatis family.  
He looked peaceful. Pale and strange, like a wax doll. Not my real father, a fake. Something to replace him. Because my father wasn't in there. He had already left.  
The autopsy team assured me that they were absolutely certain he hadn't suffered. That it had been quick, probably even painless. I nodded, and thanked them, as was proper for a princess. Whilst I was dying inside of something no doctor could cure.

Afterwards, the king of Wakanda took me to one of the smaller dining rooms. There he ordered food what was easy to eat and light on the stomach. Apparently it wasn't for show. Because he also made me eat it.  
'How do you do it, Challa?' between two slow bites of pasta I got my voice to work. 'I'm not going to survive the throne…'  
T'Challa look thoughtful. 'You shouldn't,' he started slowly, 'see it as a burden, El. I think you should only consider it an honour, a privilege. People respect you, honour you, because you watch over them.'  
I snorted. 'You might. Because of all the… well, you know.' I gestured awkwardly, indicating his alter ego, The Black Panther. 'But I'm… just me. Not some master strategic, genius or mentalist, just plain old me. Besides, I never know what to say; I bet I'll even start a world war, just because I forget some stupid etiquette.'  
T'Challa chuckled softly, and I glared at him; I wasn't even joking!  
'Elissa, you should have more faith in yourself. Also, being queen isn't something you do alone. You've got Janson, and me.' His eyes fixed mine. 'I'll help you too, Elissa. And not only for the sake of our countries being close allies for decades. You'll be a great queen - it's in your blood.'  
'Yeah… mom was a great queen, even though she wasn't born royal. And dad, well, the staff always told me they were very fond of him.'  
T'Challa nodded mournfully. 'Your family's losses are mourned beyond these palace walls.' He was silent, and quietly tapped his fingers on the smooth surface of the table. 'Elissa, there's another thing I wanted to discuss.'  
His sudden nervous behaviour intrigued me, despite my hollow feeling. I feared that hollow feeling… when my mother had passed away, it had almost consumed me. Now it had returned. A black hole had formed inside my stomach, slowly dragging everything in.  
'What is it?' I rolled pasta around my fork, looking glumly as the strings wrapped around until they fell off again. Limp, lifeless strings. How appropriate.  
'Your safety.'  
I frowned, and forgot about the food.  
'How's that? I'm in the place, filled with guards, surrounded by guards, surrounded by gates with guards… I don't see how I could be in danger.'  
T'Challa frowned too, a worried look in his dark eyes. 'I have a bad feeling about this, El. I don't want to be right, of course, but… well, you know your father wasn't sick. Neither was he old. So, whatever happens next, I don't think it's a bad idea to upgrade your security.'  
I sighed, knowing I wouldn't like his proposal. But I was too exhausted to argue.  
'What do you have in mind?'  
The tapping accelerated a bit. 'A… friend …of mine. Preferably I'd help you… but you know, I, too, got a lot of duties. His name is James Barnes, but I think you know him by his other name…. "The Winter Soldier".'  
My eyes widened. 'You mean the man who…' I didn't want to say it, so I just mumbled, '…your father…?'  
The kind solemnly shook his head. 'He didn't, I told you.' Of course. I knew a lot of things I maybe shouldn't know about; T'Challa had never held much secrets for me – even though he was six years older than me, we'd always talked freely.  
'Yes, I know… but… he did do a lot of other stuff… Quite horrible stuff…'  
For a moment T'Challa looked me into my eyes, and frowned lightly. 'Sometimes I regret telling you all the things I told you. I never realised how young you were; you always seemed so grown up. So many stories not fitted for a child… ' he shook his head slightly. 'And yes, he has – in a way. But I have told you the whole story, so you know very well it was never really him. That it was the machine they made of him.'  
My gaze went back to the rolling pasta.  
'What are your ideas of "guarding"?'  
'Outside the room is okay – for now.' He saw the look in my eyes. 'It's for your own safety.'  
'Sure it is,' I muttered. 'There comes a moment you'll lock me in a bulletproof coffin, claiming that when they think I'm dead, they won't try to kill me.'  
T'Challa chuckled sadly, 'don't give me ideas.'


	4. Chapter 4

The very next day my brand new protector arrived, just after I finished breakfast. I was wearing my "I am a mess and don't have to go anywhere publicly for at least a day" outfit, which consisted of soft, comfy pants (barely any different from pyjama pants), a loose shirt and a wide hoodie with zipper. I wasn't wearing shoes - like usually, seeing my living quarters were a "non-shoe" zone, and I often didn't feel like putting on footwear in the remainder of the common living area. Other people, however, did wear shoes indoors, so I sported my fluffy slippers to prevent any toe-damage.  
When I walked past a mirror and caught a glimpse of my messy self, I raised my eyebrows and muttered: 'Gee, Elissa, you're looking rather Royal toady.'

It was T'Challa who entered first, followed by him; James Barnes; The Winter Soldier; my bodyguard… however I should call him. He was dressed in all black, his clothing a mixture of ready for combat and secret agent; his jacket and boots were a little less sleek than those of most security guards, but they were still worthy of the royal palace. He just looked more… dangerous.  
His dark hair came to his shoulders, and was bound in a short ponytail, revealing his clean-shaven face.  
Overall conclusion: he looked more prepared for life than I. Probably could enter a gala without anyone batting an eye - while I, the princess, was looking more like a homeless person.

'Barnes,' T'Challa said, in a tone indicating right away he was in a professional state, 'may I introduce you to Merarre's princess, Elissa Meliatis?'  
Barnes dipped his head, made a short and slight bow, and gave me a studying look. Not in an "I'm checking you out" kind or manner, more like an assessment. Which, actually, felt more awkward; I didn't care if somebody checked me out, but I did want to make a good impression if sobbed expected it of me. Wishing to give a good impassion and to be respected had been drilled into me since I was a child.  
'Yeah, sorry,' I shied, digging my hand deep into the pockets of my pants, 'I'm not really looking princess-like today.'  
To this Barnes didn't reply. He only said: 'It's an honour to meet you, highness. And an honour to serve you.'  
Great, I thought cynically, because if T'Challa is right, you might be attacked by Lord knows what.  
Though I just smiled politely - like always. 'It is my pleasure, Mister Barnes.'

Thereupon I looked at T'Challa, who was also studying me, with a rather worried look on his face.  
'How are you doing?' he asked softly.  
I shrugged. 'I'm holding out.'  
He nodded, and cleared his throat, going back to his official and professional manner. 'Elissa, I have instructed Mister Barnes to stand guard outside whatever room you are in, unless there are multiple exits that are easily used.'  
There went my privacy; I could see it fly out of the window.

'What about sleep?' I asked curiously. Doesn't he need to go to bed?'  
T'Challa smiled. A typical detail I would think of. 'Naturally. At night you are – and this you must promise me – in your bedroom, which is already one of chambers in this building that are almost as safe as the bunker underneath the palace.'  
'Almost as safe, huh?' I remarked, raising my eyebrows. 'I didn't know that.'  
'Your parents worried about your safety a lot, Elissa.'  
I swallowed; suddenly my throat felt hoarse. And my eyes hurt - maybe something had fallen into it.  
'So, at night I'm alone?' I wasn't sure if that thought frightened or satisfied me.  
T'Challa shook his head. 'Of course not, El-lissa,' he quickly continued my name, realising it wasn't proper to use his nickname, 'there will be two highly-trained security guards outside your door, after Barnes has made sure the door has been properly locked. Barnes will be nearby at all times, in case anything happens…' he frowned at his own words. I still wondered what he thought mirth happen. Considering I really didn't want to know, I also didn't ask. 'Is everything clear, Elissa?'

Going over everything he had said in my head, I nodded. 'Sure. I will be guarded better than America's President – no big deal.' There was a little edge to my voice, clear enough for T'Challa to notice. As soon as he did, he walked closer, and put a hand on my shoulder while speaking.  
'That man is the president for four, maybe eight years. Without you, there might never be a king or queen again.'  
'No pressure…' I muttered smirking. However, no matter how logical he sounded, his eyes proved this was almost solely personal. That he would have done this even if I had had twenty other barters and sitters that could take of the throne. Before I could lose it again, I hugged him, and mumbled, 'so it has nothing to do with the fact you like me better?'  
T'Challa chuckled. 'As king I try not to get emotionally involved with international matters.'  
'How's that working out?' I laughed quietly, my throat still sore.  
The king hugged me back. 'I have failed that resolution many years ago.'


	5. Chapter 5

After lunch the time had come: T'Challa and Janson came to talk "business". There were stones in my stomach, knifes in my head, fingers pushing on my eyelids and sandpaper in my throat.

We sat in Janson's office, even though I now officially had an office of my own. I just couldn't bare going there. In my head it was – and would probably always be – my father's office. I used to run there when I was little, dodging the arms of my mother or my nursemaids, when I was bored. I would disturb important meetings, though my father would never really get mad. He'd often seemed relieved, as if I was a needed distraction. He'd play with me for a couple minutes, letting me explain all the things I had done, and wanted to do that day, before handing me back to my mom or maids, apologising to his guests.  
'Highness, I hope you will forgive me for taking the initiative in dealing with all that needs to happen before the funeral,' Janson started, speaking properly and articulately. Straight back, stern face. He had always reminded me of a statue.  
'Please, Janson,' I said, rubbing my temples, 'you know I don't mind; the opposite, actually.'  
Janson nodded stiffly. 'All right, highness. But I am afraid I will have to inform you on everything I have done, while I also have a list of things I – or his majesty King T'Challa – can't decide for you.'  
'Yes, I understand. It's fine, really. Please, you may continue.'  
Janson cleared his throat, restacked his papers, and started.

First of all, he showed me all of the official condolences of the heads of state. All of them had already been answered by him personally, and knowing probably all of the heads of state had let some sort of assistant write it, I didn't feel bad about it. Next he briefed me about the plans for the funeral; tomorrow afternoon, in the Solis cathedral, following all our traditions, which ranged from coffins to decorations. In the past centuries there had been written so many rules, there were barely any decisions left to make. Traditions can sometimes make life a lot simpler.  
The invitations had already been send, and most of them answered. Security would be taken care of, and many states (including America and Great Britain) had offered their help for securing this "happening". Insensitive, inconsiderate and rude were words that came to mind when reading their messages. However, considering this was a worldwide phenomenon (yes, that's actually the world one of them used), I had decided to let it go.

'Is there any news from the autopsy?' I informed when I had heard too many details about the following day, which I wouldn't remember – like which people would attend the funeral, and what media would broadcast it. Why would I care?  
'I'm afraid not, Your Majesty. It appears his heart stopped without any cause from the outside.' Quick, jerky movements when he re-stacked the papers made the documents crackle.  
I nodded glumly, retraining myself. In my head I was fuming; my father had been healthy, under fifty. He even had a dietician who kept track of all the nutrients he took in every day. There was no way his heart "just quit". My father never quit.  
Swiftly I glanced at T'Challa, who seemed in deep thoughts. His index fingers trailed small patterns on the desk. The other hand was clenched.  
With uttermost care, I intertwined my fingers, studying them.  
'What… about…. the coronation?' Damn. In spite of my concentration my voice still cracked.  
'The council has decided, highness, that it can wait until you reach the age of eighteen. Marerran laws say you can be queen while still underage. Nonetheless, we think it is best – considering our international relations – we wait until you are of legal age.'  
'Yeah, great idea,' I muttered, nodding along. The longer it could wait, the better.  
'Anything else, Janson?'  
Dumb question. Of course there was more. I mostly had to sign a lot of papers concerning my heritage and what not. I found it funny that I couldn't find the heading: "entire kingdom of Marerra and its contents". Marerra might be a modern and prosperous nation, much of our system still dated right back to more ancient times, including the laws surrounding my family.

After finishing up all the official hoo-ha, I was escorted to my private chambers, where a dressmaker was waiting with my dress for the next day. Of course, she immediately expressed her sympathy; everyone I met did.  
The dress was simple enough, quite beautiful actually, if it hadn't been intended for mourning. Raven coloured fabric – naturally – designed and sewn with both modern and classic characteristics, tasteful and comfortable enough. The woman carefully worked with pins and needles, adding the final touches and making sure it fit perfectly. I thanked her when she was done. After she gave me a slight curtsy, she left me alone.

I didn't feel like dining in an enormous, empty dining hall. Not even in the smaller, more civilian dining room, so I let them bring my meal up to my room. When I had finished, I changed into my pyjamas – which didn't differ that much from the clothes I had worn all day – and informed Barnes of my decision to go to bed.  
He had been standing outside my room, like T'Challa had told me he would, as my bedroom didn't have another exit, only a door to my bathroom.  
I already crawled into bed, and watched as he inspected all the windows, before leaving the room again (not after giving another slight bow – he surprised me with that, because many foreigners - especially western foreigners - didn't abode the Marerran etiquettes, because they thought they were outdated) and I heard some soft clicking noises. I had never heard those before, or maybe I hadn't given them any thought. To me they sounded like gears inside the door, and the walls, clicking something into place.  
Not only the mechanisms inside the walls clicked into place, also the ones inside my head. Suddenly a memory arose:

 _My father, holding my finger against a scanner, then showing me a code on an advanced looking (though small) panel. "This is very important," he had said. "Now we don't need them, but there might come a time, when there are bad people in our house. You can use this to lock yourself into your room, okay? Do you understand, Elissa?" I had nodded, and watched as he had pushed another button. Al of a sudden the panel rotated, and disappeared into the wall. My childish mind marvelled at the magic trick. It was gone, leaving a picture frame with a photo of our small family. Only three people stared back from behind the glass. To me they were a mom, a dad and their child. To the world a king, a queen and a princess.  
"But don't worry," my father said, smiling, hugging me, "there is no reason for you to worry." Then he patted me on the head, a slight crease between his bushy brows._

And I had trusted him, so I had forgotten about it. Until now. And with the memory came the realisation that this country – my country – might be of more importance than I had thought.


	6. Chapter 6

One of the benefits of being a princess, is that even if you absolutely had no night's rest, you feel like a pile of faeces, you look like a scarecrow and you are in the emotional state of a depressed turtle, there will be a team of people ready to make you look more than presentable for your father's funeral – which, let us not forget, will be broadcast to the entire world.  
Well, they didn't do it immediately. Before the transformation I ate my breakfast, by myself, in my room, and then I roamed the palace for an hour straight. At first I set out looking for T'Challa. Unfortunately, I found him busy with important phone calls, so I moved on. Walking around, trying to empty my mind, actually seeing nothing of my surroundings. Also, I was trying really hard to get used to having an extra shadow, following me around all day.  
Eventually I took a shower, and when I came out, a team of people was waiting for me. They dressed me, and combed my hair. They hid my misery behind makeup, and pinned my hair up in a neat bun, covering it by a thin net with small pearls. Around my neck they hung a necklace with silver pendant, which - I was certain – had hung around my mother's neck when her father had passed away.  
In the end I looked into the mirror, unable to recognise myself. Because in the reflective surface, I saw a strong, young woman, not a girl being crushed by responsibilities. A young woman looking a lot like her mother, if not for her father's blond hair.  
Waiting outside my door was not only Barnes, but also T'Challa, who wore his official clothing. He took my hand, and led me to the garage, where my personal car was waiting.  
'The procession will come in twenty minutes,' he spoke quietly into my ear. 'I will have to leave soon. But first, how are you holding up?'  
I tried to smile a brave smile, feeling it quiver instead. 'I'll manage,' I assured him, before I choked. 'I look like her, don't I?'  
His dark brown eyes didn't even have to look a second time before he answered. 'Yes. But I see him too, in the way you are holding up. You have his character.'  
Someone of his delegation said something, and T'Challa smiled sadly. 'I have to go. Stay strong, I know you can.'  
I nodded, and he kissed my forehead before stepping into his own car. I watched him leave, the hollowness in my stomach growing.

'Highness?' I turned around. Barnes was holding the door for me, so I could get inside without trouble. I tried to smiled through wet eyes.  
'Thank you.'  
Inside the car I clamped my hands together, with the black veil - the thin layer of fragile fabric that covered my shoulders - between them. Little warmth it gave me. Useless, if I hadn't felt comforted by gripping it.  
Had it been up to me, T'Challa would have ridden with me. Alas, even though our nations had strong bonds, placing our relation before the traditions of my country would be both selfish and dumb.  
Twenty minutes, T'Challa had said, and twenty minutes it was, until the black car containing my father's coffin came into view. However, it had felt like decades had passed, while I tried to control my breathing, while I tried to make sure I wouldn't cry.  
Whilst we made our way across the roads, I looked outside through the tinted windows. Alongside the road were hundreds, maybe even thousands of people, many holding candles, watching in silence as the procession came by.  
So many people… all here for him. A hero of the people. A father to the country.  
I was startled when Barnes suddenly spoke.  
'I realise I haven't said this to you yet, highness,' he said. I looked at him. He was looking at me with dark eyes, for once not checking our surroundings for potential threats. 'But I want to offer you my condolence for the loss of your father.'  
'Thank you.' My smile wavered. Despite everything, I was glad he had said father, instead of king. That was, I realised, what bothered me most. Because those people had lost a king, someone to make hard decisions for them. But I had lost my father. And yes, I had Janson, who could help me make difficult decisions. I had Barnes to keep me safe. I had T'Challa to hold my hand when things got rough. Yet, I had still lost my father. My hero, my guardian, my friend, my parent, my world, my everything.  
Therefore I didn't want to step out of this car as a princess. Because the princess would bury her king. I wanted to step out as a daughter, who buried her father.

Nevertheless, it was a princess who took Barnes' hand to get out. It was a princess who held her head high when men dressed in traditional black clothing carried the coffin into the cathedral. It was still a princess who followed, trying not to look at all the people in the pews, who were no doubt all very important. People who ran the world from behind desks.  
And it was a princess who took her place on the dais, overlooking the crowd, not seeing a single face. Because it was the daughter who saw her friend's eyes. Who sought strength in them, and who found it when he smiled with encouragement. Because it was the daughter who felt like she might have lost her father, but still had a brother.

I gave a speech - a truly royal speech - about a righteous king, who happened to also be a father. "My father" were the words I used, even though my tongue kept tripping over the ways I actually called him; mostly dad, but sometimes - I remembered the time an extremely loud thunderstorm had raged above the palace grounds, and I had squeezed myself between my father and mother in their large bed - I had called him daddy. I shared some happy memories, precious little pearls they were, but not my best – those were mine and mine alone.

It was Janson who followed me, giving a speech about a beloved king, again that stranger, the righteous king, and a generous man. I didn't listen. I thought it nonsense. This was a show, a big spectacle, not even close to what my father would have wanted. My mind took me to my mother's funeral, which had been far more private, with far less people and far less fuss. It had happened here, because my father had insisted she would be placed inside the family tomb. "She is family," he had said, a drained look on his face. "She's done more for this family than most of the corpses down there."  
Eventually the bishop of Saluport spoke. He was an old man, who spoke about heaven and the afterlife. No matter how much I believed my parents where there, I wished they would have let T'Challa speak. When my mother had died, he had told me about their culture, and their afterlife. How death wasn't the end, but instead a stepping off point.

After a long silence filled softened by music, the coffin was carried down a stone staircase, into my family's tomb. I followed, again alone.  
We rounded corners, and passed the graves of my ancestors. The hallways were cold and draughty. At the same time, though, strangely musty. There were no cobwebs, thanks to the chosen ones who were allowed to go down here and look after the graves of old.

When they had placed the coffin on its proper place – beside my mother's – I watched the carriers go, bowing for me, not saying a word. There was only one person who stayed: my new shadow.  
'Hello, mom,' I greeted softly, standing as close as I dared to the grave in the wall, 'I'm back. It's a bit too soon, I know. But dad couldn't wait. I don't blame him. Really dad, I don't. You have the right to follow her. I just wished you could have waited a bit longer. At least you've got mom to guide you…' I swallowed, pulling the thin veil a bit closer around my shoulders. I was running out of oxygen. The world started spinning around me - dazzling me, choking me. 'I think I have to go. You know how I don't like confined spaces… that hasn't changed since last time…' I breathed in deeply. My hands gripped the edge of the tomb. It was cold, hard stone. Rough, course enough to scrape a layer of skin.  
'I miss you so much…'


	7. Chapter 7

The countdown had started. Only three months before my eighteenth birthday… only three months before the coronation.  
'I'm going for a run!' I announced, abruptly standing up from behind da- my desk. Janson didn't say anything, but I could see the exasperation in his eyes.  
I strode to my bedroom and changed into my sports outfit.  
It had been two weeks since the funeral. Two weeks since I had crawled back to the surface and found T'Challa waiting in the cathedral. Two weeks since he had guided me to a private chamber before hugging me, and letting me cry and ruin his clothes.

It had been four days since T'Challa had left reluctantly, ensuring me I could call any moment of the day. Four days since I had watched his plane disappear into the clouded sky.  
'Don't judge me,' I grumbled, when I left my room, ready to go for a run. That had been T'Challa's idea; to find something that could get my mind off the stress. For now I had chosen running, though I wasn't sure if I could keep it up once I had even more responsibilities. Apparently being queen is a full-time job.  
'I don't, highness.'  
A bit surprised I looked at Barnes; this was probably the first time I had heard him speak since the car ride. A silent, watchful guardian he had been. Demanding no attention whatsoever.  
'Yeah, officially I'm the highest judge in this country,' I smirked, knowing full well my father hadn't used that power. Maybe I imagined it, but I thought his usually stoic expressing loosened just a bit.

Why I had been upset enough to walk out on Janson? Well, we had been going through some of the details of the coronation – I know, three months in advance… that's a bit early – to make a planning for the next twelve weeks. Among other things because I had to know exactly what to do and say on that infamous day, while in the meantime, Janson (and some ministers, I believed) would intensify my education. It would be quite the understatement if I said I was a little stressed.  
At first I jogged to my regular spot (a grand pond with lilies, and grass filled with the most beautiful flowers) where I started to run in circles. Usually the wind was able to blow away my worries long enough for me to relax a bit. Not today. Not this moment. Because today, all the letters I had been reading earlier resurfaced, and formed a whirlpool inside my thoughts. Sentences swirled around, losing sense and meaning, screaming out their own sounds.

In an attempt to avoid the chaos, I started running quicker and quicker. Immediately my body protested; my sides ached and my lungs burned - I kept running. Nausea rose from the pit of my stomach - I kept running. A forceful volcano of bitter taste and a burning sensation - I ran towards a bush - fighting the urge to heave - my hand pressed firmly against my lips. Behind the bush's protection I fell to my knees and emptied my stomach.  
'Highness, are you sick?'  
'No,' I huffed, averting my eyes so I wouldn't repeat my action. There was no need to see my breakfast half-digested between the blades of grass. Croissant, toast and strawberries tend to look best before they are eaten.  
A gently touch startled me, reminding me Barnes had asked me something; that he was there; that I wasn't supposed to sit with my knees in the mud.  
'No, no, I'm not sick. Breakfast just didn't sit well in my stomach, I guess. Really, I'm fine.' Nevertheless, I didn't look at him. T'Challa always told me my eyes were very telling. He, however, knew me very well. Of course he knew when I was lying.  
With his hand wrapped carefully around my upper arm, Barnes helped me up.  
'Let me get you a nurse, highness.'  
'Wait what?' Dumbstruck I looked at him. A nurse? A prickling sensation in my knee made me look down and realise I had injured my leg. 'Oh. Please, no, no!' panicking I looked back up. 'Please, please, don't do that! If you call someone, Janson will know…' shame already rose to my cheeks; embarrassment was something I didn't handle well.  
'It needs to be taken care of, highness.' He was all professionally concerned, while I was being an anxious child who'd done something incredibly stupid. However, if I forbade him, he would never do it.  
'I'll do it myself.' Even I could hear the doubt in my own voice. Beaten I looked down at my hands. Did every stupid little thing I did have to be noticed by everyone?  
'If you don't mind, highness, I could help you.'  
'You could?' then I blushed again at my own exclamation. I sighed. 'Of course you could. I believe I'm the only one not capable of anything. I'm quite useless actually. Like, all the effort you people put in me, it's all wasted. Sometimes I am surprised I can do as much as tie my own shoes.'  
'You shouldn't think this badly of yourself, highness.'  
'Right,' I huffed, 'name one thing I can do.' Now that I was walking again (with some assistance of Barnes), I clearly felt the sting in my knee. It was like a big bee kept stinging me - that would make it a wasp, actually, bees can only sting you one time.  
'I have heard you graduated two years early, with outstanding grades, even though you followed all subjects on the highest level.'  
'But I had a private teacher!' I protested. 'I don't think I deserve much credit for that.'  
'How's that? He made those exams for you?' For the first time his voice truly expressed emotion. Curiously I glanced at him, before I grimaced and cursed.  
'Shit, oh, sorry.' I grimaced again. 'Gee, that stings.'  
'Only a few more steps, highness.'

Finally, we reached a small door at the back of the palace, leading to a scullery the size of a regular kitchen. Here, Barnes took out a chair, and made me sit down. I groaned and stretched my leg, looking down at the scraped skin.  
Blood didn't faze me, and I watched hypnotised as the little droplets welled up.  
'You know,' I mused (Barnes was rumbling through cabinets in the background), 'when I see my own blood, I always wonder why they call us "of royal blood". It's just the same, isn't it? No golden Ichor or blood with some kind of power. I bet your blood is more special than mine.'  
Barnes knelt down before me, a small stool beside him which he used to hold the medical supplies.  
'People don't respect me, highness.' Imperturbably he started cleaning the gash.  
I sighed, and watched as he worked. 'You weren't born inside the palace. They haven't seen you grow up. You don't carry the royal name.'  
'Exactly.' A quick dart of his eyes. A small light flickered inside them. 'Highness, your family has sacrificed a lot for this kingdom, more than you might know. You have been raised as a princess, so you could take the crown.'  
'Sure…' I exhaled deeply through my nose. Whatever Barnes was doing, he did it quite carefully, though the disinfectant did prickle a little. 'But… "I haven't done anything in my life. I didn't even do the press conference…"'  
Barnes looked up. 'Those aren't your words, highness.'  
'True… but still… even though I shouldn't read those comments, they're right. My father was a good, great king. What's going to become of this country now it only has me?'  
'The way I hear it, highness, someone who cares about if she does the right thing or not. I can't say that of all the people I know.'

I considered that. 'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.'  
For a moment I thought I heard Barnes chuckle.  
'At least you've got an answer to everything, highness. Here, I'm done.' He got up, and I looked down. A neat, white bandage had been wrapped around my knee, barely restricting me when I moved my leg.  
'Thanks.'  
'It's my duty, highness.'  
His face was back to neutral. Like a perfect mask. How he managed to wear it all day long, I had no idea.  
I returned to my room, where I put on some headphones, and lay down on my bed. A little smile crept onto my face. After everything he'd been through, all that he had seen of the world, Barnes thought I could be a good queen. His reassurance didn't chase away the doubt and panic, but cheering me up, it did.


	8. Chapter 8

Another week past. There now were three weeks between us and the funeral. Only two months and one week between me and the coronation.  
'Highness,' Janson began grimly, during our daily meeting, 'I think it is time for you to make a public appearance.'  
'Really?' I pretended to be utterly surprised. 'Why didn't you say so?' I got off my chair again. 'If someone would be friendly enough to open a door for me…'  
Looking back at Janson, I discovered he was looking rather unamused. 'Sorry,' I smiled apologetically while sitting down, 'please, continue.'  
He didn't immediately. First, he looked me in the eyes for a while. 'Right. Majesty, Natalie Johnson has invited you, and I thought it would be the perfect time for you to-'  
'No, no, wait!' I put my hand up, as a gesture for Janson to stop. 'I'm sorry, Natalie who?'  
Silence. Eyes that obviously were trying to figure out if I was joking or not. 'Natalie Johnson, highness. The current first lady of the United States of America.'  
'O, that Natalie…' I had to look away for a moment. Barnes was standing there. I grimaced at him – my best, "how was I supposed to know that?" face. 'Please, continue.'  
Again Janson seemed eager to read my mind.  
'Anyway. I thought it best if you'd accept this invitation, to show the people you are doing… things. That you are preparing for your official duties.'  
I nodded, and listened glumly as Janson started explaining every detail of this (apparently already planned) very important trip. Boring wasn't the right word. Nerve-wrecking came closer. With perhaps a bit of boredom.

'On the bright side, I always wanted to go to the States!' Optimism. Not really my thing. Clearly not my thing; my fake light-hearted tone sounded quite tortured.  
'It's going to be fine, Elissa. President Johnson is a nice man. And if you ever are in need of a topic of conversation, ask about his hobbies. He adores fishing.'  
'But I don't…' I groaned. 'And I do not enjoy talking to strangers.'  
'I'm not sure you can call the President of America a stranger, El.'  
'Well…'  
'It is not my fault you didn't know who Natalie Johnson is.' T'Challa snickered again. He had found it quite amusing. Probably every impala and rhino in Wakanda had heard him laugh.  
'You already laughed about that,' I grumbled.  
'It is still funny. Though must say I feel bad for poor Janson. How did he react?'  
Now I could snicker too. Janson's expression had been gold. 'He couldn't decide if I was joking or not.'  
'That's understandable. You spend so much time on the Internet, you'd think you would at least know that.'  
'Just because I can quote movies, doesn't mean I know anything about real life.'  
'So… you just can't wait to be queen?'  
'Haha, very funny.' Despite my annoyance, I smiled fondly. 'I've made you watch that movie a lot, haven't I?'  
'I do have a great understanding of the circle of life.'  
'See,' I said pleased, 'those movies are really educational.'

More fluffy, white clouds trailed underneath us. The sea still stretched out, seeming never ending.  
For the thousandth time I sighed. 'I wish I could go home, though.'  
'I know, El. But the people need to know you're out there.'  
'Yeah… what about the "security issue"? I mean, I can't go anywhere inside the palace, and suddenly I have to go abroad?'  
I could practically hear T'Challa roll his eyes. 'To the White House. Honestly, that's the worst excuse you have used to far.'  
'But I really don't want to go!'  
T'Challa didn't even respond to that anymore.  
'Get some sleep, Elissa. You don't want to be completely jet-lagged when the first Lady invites you into the white house.'  
'Okay. I'll get some sleep. 'I wanted to end the call, but quickly changed my mind. 'They do know I haven't come to talk politics, do they?'  
'Yes, Elissa. They know. Now, sleep tight.'  
Once more I grumbled. 'Bye.'

I put down the phone and I let my chair tilt backwards. Neat clothing, a neat hairdo and sleeping don't really go well together, but at the moment I didn't care. For now I curled up in my chair. One more time I looked around the jet. Barnes was sitting a couple chairs away.  
'Barnes.' At the soft mention of his name his gaze shifted to me.  
'What is it, highness?'  
'Wake me when we land, will you?'  
'Of course.'


	9. Chapter 9

As promised, Barnes woke me up when the wheels touched the ground. Hair ruffled, pantsuit looking like I'd been wearing it for a week straight and eyes thick I got off the plane. Before I stepped out a stylist tried to fix it, but some parts of my look were too far gone to be salvaged.  
Even though we were awaited by a professional (somewhat stereotypical) crew of security agents, Barnes stayed very close to me. As usual still keeping a respectable distance.  
A big, black, incredibly expensive looking car (which I couldn't name, even though many people would probably know what kind of car it was) was waiting for us – or me, to be exact. Two little flags fluttered in the wind – one star-spangled, and one deep purple, with a pretty little golden ship; the official flag of Marerra.

While entering it – with the help of Barnes – I pretended to be not quite impressed with our welcoming committee. A crinkled nose and raised eyebrows was what they got from me.  
Once inside the car I let the haughtily air go. 'Well, Barnes, did that look royal?'  
'I can't say it didn't, highness.'  
'Good.' Yawning I stretched. 'Because they were all looking at me like I am some annoying child. They may think they have the perfect poker-face, but it actually was quite obvious.' Despite trying to look like it didn't affect me at all, the annoyance was clearly audible in my voice.  
'They just don't understand your country, highness.'  
I stopped rubbing my eyes and looked up. 'Do you? It just… it just occurred to me that you're American too.'  
Barnes looked me thoughtfully in the eyes. 'I have seen the love of your people with my own eyes. I have read the reports on the welfare and wellbeing of your kingdom. It isn't the system that's good or bad, it's the people that run it.'  
'I…' a broad smile appeared on my face. 'Thank you, thank you for that. I'm going to keep that one in mind.'  
'You're welcome.'  
A short silence in which I peeked through the window, secretly exited I finally got to visit America. A sudden realisation made me look at my guard again.  
'Speaking about you coming from America; don't you have… people to visit? I mean, you're spending an awful lot of time with me… shouldn't you have, like, your personal time?'  
Barnes shifted in his seat.  
'Everyone I might visit is quite busy lately. I would only be in the way.'  
Did that make me feel better or worse about myself? I wasn't quite sure.

At first – when we had only just left the little, private airport behind us - there was not much to see besides trees and grass. However, when we left the woods behind us, and we made our way through the city, I had something to look at. People were stopping to look at our convoy, intrigued by the sight of the big cars. None of them had any idea of who was in it probably. But that I was "of importance", that they knew – the security measures made that very clear.

Finally, we reached the gates of the White House, and the procession came to a halt. Like always, Barnes came out of the car first, helping me not make a fool of myself by tripping. Frightened, I didn't dare turn around and see the people look through the gates, so I just kept looking ahead. It was also quite difficult to not stare at this famous building. Had I been someone else, I had probably asked someone to take a picture of me.  
'We are very honoured to have you hear, Princess.'  
A regular looking woman in her mid-forties, with dyed, dark brown hair and a nice (though not incredibly intelligent looking) face was waiting for me on top of the steps leading to the house.  
'It is my honour, Miss Johnson,' I replied smiling. 'I am very flattered to be invited to your home.'  
'O, dear,' the woman – who was still, to me, a complete stranger – wrapped her arm around me like I was some child with a scraped knee, 'when I heard you were all alone in that palace, I knew I had to bring you here.'

Stunned. I was downright stunned. Did she not realise I was about to have theoretical absolute power – on paper only, of course. I would never claim to be an absolute monarch… the minister's council did most of the governing. Still, I had come here to earn the respect of the people, not to be belittled.  
'Not alone, not quite,' I said, awkwardly. Quickly I glanced back at Barnes, who was walking behind me, and mouthed: "What the…?". 'There are actually quite a lot of people working in the palace at a daily basis. Janson… uhm, our' (should I say advisor? That was his official Marerran title… but I had a feeling they wouldn't understand his importance if I called him a mere advisor) 'prime-minister, he works in the palace. And let us not forget about all the guar-'  
'That's not what I meant, sweetie. I meant people, real people.'  
Now I was really wondering what these security guards of her were. Aliens? Or perhaps clones… that would explain their oddly similar looks.  
'I, uhm, I… I love your home,' I stuttered, when she lead me into the main hall. It took a lot of effort not to add: it's very… white.  
'Thank you. Well, for now I will lead you to your room, but tonight we will have dinner together. I thought it would be nice if it were a bit fancy, wouldn't it?'  
Her face open, eyes wide, bright smile and bouncing slightly she looked at me.  
'O, yes, fancy, I- that seems like… fun… Miss Johnson.'  
'I thought so too. Come, come, just a couple more stairs. Look, here're your rooms. Your luggage will be brought up in a minute. Just relax, make yourself feel at home. And I just hope you will have a nice stay!' she smiled broadly, showing incredibly white teeth.  
'I- thank you, Miss Johnson. Thank you.'  
Couldn't she stop smiling? Didn't it hurt, such a bright smile? My face hurt. When she'd left, I quickly withdrew to the bedroom part of "my" rooms, and planted myself face-first into the pillows – which were, to be honest, actually really fluffy.

'Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….' I groaned. 'I. Am. Going. To. Die.'  
'You're not, highness. That's what I'm here for,' Barnes replied calmly. I heard him go around the room, probably checking for security breaches or whatever.  
'Yes, I am! I don't know if you've noticed, but I am terrible with people. Especially when they try to be all motherly. I don't know her! How could she possibly think-'  
A soft hand on my shoulder interrupted my rant.  
'Highness, you are making this very hard on yourself.'  
I rolled over, and sat up. My legs dangled over the edge of the bouncy bed.  
'I know… it's just… they've taught me so much from the beginning. I had (and actually still have) the best teachers one could imagine… I can read ancient Greek and Latin, which are both dead languages. They taught me how the human mind an psychology work… Yet they didn't really teach me how to interact with humans. I have no clue how to converse with human beings!'  
'You can converse with me, highness.'  
'But I won't start a World War if I accidentally insult you!'  
'Neither will you start a war here.' I rolled my eyes sceptically, but relaxed a bit. 'Though I do not doubt you could if you wanted to, highness.'  
I grinned, and snickered. 'Thank you. I appreciate the faith.' I leaned forwards and freed myself from those tight shoes. 'But now,' I announced, 'I shall sleep!'  
I basically threw myself down on the bed, not bothering with my hair or clothes. Tonight I would be wearing something else, I knew. All I cared about was sleeping.  
Soft footsteps removed themselves from me. Without opening my eyes, I muttered: 'please wake me when I've got to change.'  
'I will, highness.'


	10. Chapter 10

The dinner was fancy, all right. Modern fancy. With us all dressed up in suits and pretty dresses. But those dressed were simple, shiny, just beneath the knees. The jewellery was simple, maybe pearls, or glittery crystals.

What the food was concerned; luxurious meats with all kinds of sauces, salads, different forms of potatoes and various side-dishes. It all felt strange to me. Actually, I would have preferred it if they had chosen something that wouldn't have made me feel like they were showing off, or trying to show they could be sophisticated. Because fancy food requires fancy talking, which I am not very good at.  
'Princess, you are looking so pretty!' Again, the motherly and overly-enthusiastic way she approached me made me uneasy. This was almost the opposite of how I was used to being treated. Awkward smiling was basically my only reaction to this.  
'I- Thank you, Miss Johnson. I must say, your diner room looks very beautiful.' Before sitting down, I corrected my pearly gold dress. After I sat down, I unfolded my napkin and put it on my lap. Unfolding a piece of cloth usually doesn't take that much time, but I desperately tried to avoid eye contact of any kind.  
When I finally did look up, Miss Johnson was ready to introduce her family proudly.  
'This is my husband, David Johnson,' the president nodded, looking at me rather oddly. Politely, I nodded back. 'And this is our son, Daniel.' The boy – though I probably shouldn't call him a boy, as he was about my age or even older – was a rather fine looking young man, with an intelligent face and an air of privilege and wealth.  
'It's an honour to meet you both, Mr President, Daniel.'

Having completed all formalities (which, alas, included their condolences; thus awkwardness), the family said a prayer before dinner, and we got started.  
Admittedly, it was very good food. Delicious, outstanding, high quality. The conversation… not so much.  
Stumbling block number one: their indecision on how to address me. Perhaps they used highness a couple times, but mostly they just tried to get my attention in indirect ways, just saying things like: "and what do you think?".  
The second stumbling block, was my almost complete inability to take part in chit-chat. There was one simple explanation: we came from two completely different worlds. Examples:  
'I heard you came from college, Daniel?' This was me trying to sound interested.  
'O, yes, I am working on getting a degree in civil engineering. Do you go to college?'  
'Uhm, well, I used to consider some kind of secondary education, but I don't think that will be possible.'  
'O.'

Yes, perfect reaction: "Oh". Awkwardness. Trying really hard to avoid eye contact. Using the slightest of movements to cut a piece of chicken, so I could bring it subtly to my mouth with my fork. Chewing carefully. Sliding my gaze around the room.  
All right, time for attempt number two:  
'I love your house, Miss Johnson.'  
'Thank you dear.' The first lady, too, seemed relieved someone had broken the silence.  
'Well, it's not really our house, though. Only for eight years.' The heaviest, most awkward silence yet followed. Very slowly I looked up from my plate. Daniel was looking at me. Was that meant as some kind of insult or accusation? 'I bet it is nothing compared with your palace.'  
Now a smile followed, as if that was some kind of compliment, or something that would make me feel better.  
'I,' sweat trickled down my forehead. Maybe the heating systems were broken. 'It's not really my palace. it's more like property of the country.' Actually the state, which consequently meant me.  
'Cool.' Right. I wished he would look away. I smiled. Suddenly my chicken was very interesting. My fingers clamped around the silverware. It used to be cold - now it was warm and sweaty.  
What had T'Challa said again? That's right, hobbies. Time to bring out the fishing card.  
'Mr President, I heard you are quite fond of fishing?'

Lo and behold it worked. It was like I nudged a small of ice and snow of a mountain, and could sit back and relax as it grew and grew. Until it was big enough that everyone had forgotten all that had happened before. Except for me, of course. I spend the remaining minutes reliving the awkwardness of the past conversations.

At the end of the night, my face was glowing with embarrassment. It was so bad, that I didn't even dare look one of the guards in their eyes - not even Barnes. It may seem like they were motionless statues, but I was fully aware that they judged me just like all the other people in the room.  
Anyway. What was to be learnt from this all? That the president really, really loved fishing. Wait, no. That's not correct. That I am terrible at normal conversations.


	11. Chapter 11

Apparently my brains thought I hadn't suffered enough. They decided I needed to relive it over and over again, until the sun had set many hours ago. Silence had descended on the presidential residence. Now it gave me time to think. And wonder, too.  
Like when my legs demanded me to move, and I peeked through the curtains to look at the night's sky, I wondered if this was the first time I spend a night somewhere that wasn't my own house. Perhaps as a child I had spent the dark hours somewhere else - though likely not the house of a "normal" person. Probably some state official of a foreign country.  
'Stupid,' I scoffed myself, 'how many times haven't you slept in Wakanda?'  
But to me, that didn't count. Wakanda's palace felt more like a vacation home to me, or like an extension of my own home.

Here I didn't know anyone. Here there were only people I barely knew. Yet, how many people were there at home that I truly knew? I had only one friend. And he lived on the other side of the equator.  
A painful shock of loneliness struck me. Followed by a determination. I could change that. One person had been kind to be from the beginning. He might not be the most typical person to choose as a friend - heck, he even worked for me. Still, he was a good person. Respectful, considerate, prepared to take my culture in account. Someone I believed I could trust.

With soft, fluffy robes tugged around me I opened the door. Behind it stood two stoic guards, just waiting. Being security-guard or agent seemed like such an anticlimactic job. In movies it is always full of action and tension, but from what I had seen, it was mostly standing and walking around with an emotionless face and eyes skimming the area.  
Now I had to get their attention.  
'Uhm, hi.'  
The bloke on the right side turned his head.  
'Is there anything wrong, miss?' Damn, I felt small.  
'I- no, I would just like to ask you if you maybe could bring Mister Barnes to me.' Absolutely no change in his face. I brought my chin up. 'Please.'  
Next came one of those moments that I doubted if I wanted to know what the people around me were thinking. I could guess, though. And I was pretty sure he was considering if he'd rather die for me or get in trouble for not protecting me. On the other hand, his face didn't give anything away. So he might be thinking about kittens. Who knows.  
'Sure, Miss.'

Eye contact between the two guards. A slight nod from the left. Then he left with stiff, powerful steps.  
'Uhm… I'll just- Please let Mister Barnes into my room when he arrives. Tell him he doesn't have to knock.'  
Quickly I escaped back into my room. First I roamed around for approximately thirty seconds, until I fell down on the couch.  
Contrary to what I had ordered, a soft knock at the door announced Barnes' arrival.  
'Come in!'  
My guard slipped through the door, shutting it in a gentle manner. He didn't come nearer.  
'I'm sorry if I woke you up.' With my index finger I drew little patterns on the fabric of the sofa.  
'It is okay, highness. Is anything wrong?'  
'What? O, no. Well, not really. Not directly.' I took a deep breath to stop my rumbling. 'What I mean is that there isn't a direct emergency. I do, however, have a - yes, problem. You might say problem. An issue. But mostly something I need to get off my chest.' Frustrated because I couldn't get the words out the way I wanted, I rubbed away the swirls. 'I'm sorry I don't really know how to say this.'  
'Take your time, highness. It will come to you.'  
I smirked at that. 'I wouldn't be so sure. However… if you want, you might want to sit down? I'm aware you're not easily tired. Still, sitting seems more comfortable.'  
Barnes bowed his head. 'Of course.' So he did. On the other side of the couch I was sitting on, turned enough so he could look at me while I continued struggling with my words.  
'Right. This is my problem.' I breathed in deeply. My eyes flickered from my knees to Barnes' face and back. 'I don't have many friends.' Again a little flicker, to check Barnes' reaction. There wasn't really one, as usual. 'Actually, I only have one. T'Challa. But he's a king. In Africa. And I live in Europe. And I'm also going to be queen. And I never meet anyone of my own age.  
So… I don't want to sound petty, or needy. Perhaps I shouldn't ask this of you at all…'  
My words died out. I simply didn't dare continue.  
'Highness,' Barnes said very slowly. His tony was very seriously, not at all sounding like he thought my rambling was pathetic. 'It isn't petty to wish for some company. Loneliness is a terrible thing. Believe me…' some vulnerability I had never seen with him before appeared. Deep sadness bubbled up in his eyes, as if from a deep water. 'When I… woke up, hand found myself again, I only had one friend. Of course we're very different persons, but I think loneliness doesn't differ much.'

The statement reminded me he was from another time, another place. How he might have survived eighty years without aging, most people he knew must have been dead when he finally regained control.  
'But can I ask this of you?'  
'That's up to me, isn't it?' For the first time I saw something of amusement on his face.  
'I guess it is.' I shrugged. 'And what is your verdict, if I might ask?'  
Barnes flexed his fingers. 'That I'm not sure if I'm great company. But you can ask me anything.'  
The slightest wisp of relief. 'I'm not going to ask you much, I think,' I tried to reassure him immediately. 'One thing, actually. If I might call you by your first name.'  
'My first name?' curiosity and surprise fought in his eyes.  
'Yes. Weird request, I know. Only, Barnes sounds so impersonal. And if you don't want that, if it's too weird, just say it. Then you can go back to bed, and we can all forget about this conversation.'  
At last, a smile broke his poker face. 'It's okay. I don't mind, highness. The opposite, actually.' He looked down at his hands, stretched them and looked up again. 'It might actually help make me feel more human.'  
There was much behind that statement, but seeing how I had already asked for a personal favour, I didn't pursue my curiosity.  
'So…' awkwardly I looked at him. 'James it is?'  
That unexpected smile broadened a bit. 'James it is.'

In the following silence, I could hear a clock tick somewhere in the room. I shifted my weight, and shoved my hands underneath my legs.  
'Highness?' Barnes- James, was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his eyes studying my face. 'I was wondering something, about what you said during dinner.'  
'Oh. I was telling a lot of nonsense, I think.' My lips pressed together apologetically.  
James seemed amused. 'It was about your education. How you wanted to study but you're not going to anymore. Why is that?'

To me the answer seemed quite obvious. Apparently not to the guard. 'The queen thing will be in the way, I think.' I snorted. 'Me walking through the hallways of university would be quite a distraction.'  
'Didn't you tell me you got all your education through private teachers?'  
'Indeed.'  
'Then why can't you hire someone to teach you any subject you want? '  
'I-' but I haltered before I could reject this idea. 'That's actually a very reasonable idea.'  
'Of course after you've settled into your life as queen. We don't want you to be overwrought.'  
'Indeed, that would be a terrible inconvenience.' I smiled in a melancholy kind of way. I also shifted my weight a bit, so I could remove my hands from underneath myself. 'I think it is funny - and it demonstrates the difference between me and "normal" people - that so many children dream of becoming a prince, or princess, a knight in shining armour. And naturally I had those dreams too, and I loved those movies. But I also always loved watching American High School movies, to be honest,' I laughed quietly. 'I always dreamed about going to one. I wanted to be a proud nerd, carrying my books around all day, no matter how heavy they were. I would not be one of the popular, rich kids, because that would mean I would be in the spotlight. No, anonymity for me.' I sighed. I looked at my own hands, bending and stretching my fingers, trying to get some feeling in them. Fond memories of daydreams brought the ghost of a long lost childhood smile to my face. 'And if, coincidentally, everyone randomly started to sing, I wouldn't mind.'  
Again I listened to the far away clock. The ticks and tacks were very distant, barely audible. At least time was one thing I had in common with the people outside the palace walls.  
'I'd like to tell you about high school, but I think it has changed a little since I attended.' James' voice was soft, reassuring. He was trying to cheer me up, I realised.  
I snorted. 'It would be shamefully if it hadn't. It would make history lessons easier, though. A lot less subject matter for the teachers to talk about.'  
His dark eyebrows raised. 'Believe me, highness, they had enough to talk about.'  
I tilted my head slightly to one side. 'Were you a good student?'

He was back there, I could see it. Back in his former classrooms, his former school, with all the people he had known. The usual guarded expression had faded, and been replaced by a similar expression I had had thinking about my own fond memories.  
'I like to think I was. Good grades. Teachers liked me. Yeah, that's something that hasn't changed, I think. If a teachers dislikes you, you're done for.'  
'O yes. But there I had an advantage. You know, it is highly unlikely the teachers would dislike the cute little princess. Though they've had to have a lot of patient, my teachers.'  
'Patience is a good quality. And no one can expect you to be a full grown princess at birth. Nobody is born the way they are later in life. The queen, the teacher, the soldier… they've all had to learn how to become what they're supposed to be.'


	12. Chapter 12

As a slightly spoiled child - and, let us not forget, a princess - I had never really experienced being ignored. But let me tell you: there is a very big difference between enough attention and obsessive attention. You could call the latter also creepiness. Of course, only the weirdo types do this, being creepy. Wrong. Sophisticated, educated and nice people do this, too. I don't want to name names. But Daniel Johnson started to weird me out.  
It started barely noticeable; he helped me into my chair. Unusual – yes; a little strange – yes; disturbing - no. Not yet.

What should have tipped me off, was him sitting next to me. A bit too close, to be honest. Yet, I thought he perhaps didn't notice. It could have been on accident. Yeah, right.  
'So, Elissa, what do you like to do in your free time?'  
My entire body stiffened. Did he just call me Elissa? Had he broken on of the most basic etiquette rules in the whole of Marerra? Should I say anything about it? I thought better of it. Maybe it was a one-time thing. Giving it attention would make it only more awkward.  
'I quite enjoy reading, Daniel,' I responded articulately. 'And films, too, I suppose.'  
'Really? What kind of movies?'  
His eyes were fixed on me. They felt like headlights of an enormous truck; blinding me.  
'Lots of movies, actually,' I shrugged. 'From classics to modern, independent films.' I thought it best not to mention how I could sing along with almost every Disney movie out there. This not being thought of as refined or cultivated, I kept it to myself.  
'Did I tell you how good you are looking today, Elissa?' Again, it took so much of me to not flinch at the president-son's comment. My face, however, did glow warmly - in a bad way.  
'Thank you.' It was very difficult to speak those words. My lips were pressed together very tightly.  
Apparently Daniel didn't realise how much embarrassment he had just created. In fact, he just went on to make it even worse.  
'Yes, very pretty. And I was just thinking what a shame it is that I can't show you around. I would take you to our bowling lane, but I have to go back to college.'  
'Indeed. A shame.'  
He had to go back to college… thank God. I imaged how uncomfortable it would have been if I had to tell him I a) couldn't go stroll around the city, and b) if I could, I wouldn't go with him.  
Now I started wondering if keeping your eyes down all the time is rude. Probably. But I really, really didn't want to look back up.

Thinking about how T'Challa would react if he had sat here lifted my spirits. He would have been very polite, though at the same time he would have made it clear to the boy that he shouldn't speak to me in this manner. It would've been quite a sight.  
T'Challa always was really good at getting things done without being obnoxious or rude. Considering he never liked politics, he had become really good at it.  
So, what would T'Challa do?  
I turned to the first lady.  
'I must say, Mrs Johnson, you have prepared a truly outstanding meal.'  
Mrs Johnson giggled. 'Thank you, dear.'  
'Do you enjoy cooking?'  
'O, yes, very much. It's just so relaxing, you know. And it makes my guys so happy. Though they wouldn't mind if I cooked the same meal every day.' She smiled lovingly at her husband and son. I swallowed.  
'Mum!' Daniel exclaimed. 'You make it sound like we're a bunch of rednecks!' he was about to address mer again, but I quickly returned to the subject.  
'Do you like experimenting, Mrs Johnson?'  
'If I'm brave enough. The kitchen here, it's marvellous! Really, I-'

And she went on, and on. every time she stopped talking, I made sure she continued. It was a dangerous game of dodging being the centre of attention. I manged, though, and when Daniel asked me if I'd like to have some kind of tour of the white house, I told him - very politely - I was tired, and wished to go to bed.

'You handled that very well, highness,' James said softly when the dinner room was far enough away.  
'Thank you,' I exhaled, releasing the tension from my shoulders. 'I can't believe the things he said. I might not be here on an official state visit, but still… does he think I'm just a friend of the family or something?'  
'I think his behaviour was inappropriate - princess or not. He knows you just lost your father - should I speak to him?' There was an edge to James' voice that I had never heard before. I looked back. A tenseness had built in his face, tightening his jaw, darkening his eyes.  
'Oh, no. It's all right,' I said, even though I felt a bit shaken, exactly because of the reason James had mentioned himself.  
'Are you sure, highness?'

I thought about it. It sounded tempting. James was threatening enough to just go up to Daniel's door, and say whatever he had to say in a calm voice, and the boy would listen. But no, I would just have to deal with it.  
'Yes. He doesn't know better. Let him be, I guess.'  
When I had returned to my room and had checked my phone, I realised there was a missed call. It came from T'Challa.  
'Hello,' I said in a strange accent, when T'Challa had picked up the phone. 'You called?'  
'Elisa!' T'Challa sounded a bit relieved. 'I'm sorry I haven't called yet. How's America?'  
'Well, you know. Like usual; the first lady tries to be some kind of replacement mum, the president is a grumpy old man, and their son tries to get me to date him.' Amused I could count down until T'Challa realised what I had said. I sat down on sofa.  
'I'm sorry, El. Trying to date you?'  
I bowed down to remove my shoes.  
'I swear, T'Challa, he was flirting with me!'  
'Come on, Elissa,' T'Challa didn't seem to believe me. 'I am sure he was just being nice, he'd know better than-'  
'You don't believe me?' I huffed. 'Ask James!'

I held out the phone to James, who took it. He briefly listened (no doubt T'Challa asked him if the young Johnson had actually flirted with me), and then, with eyes on me, said: 'I'm pretty sure the boy was flirting, your Majesty.'  
'I told you so!' I called out, even though I wasn't holding the phone. 'I told you!'  
Even from this distance I could hear T'Challa laugh through the phone. And James also smiled. The strained manner had disappeared.  
'Really,' I said, after I had the phone in my head again. 'It wasn't even subtly. You know, it all started when he called me Elissa…'

Very relived to talk to T'Challa again, and to be able to blow off some steam, I recapped the entire dinner to my friend. He listened patiently, commenting on exactly the right moments. He sounded quite amused all the way through, though there was a moment I suspected for a second that it was faked.  
I felt immensely relieved when I was done. Some ridiculous small talk followed, during which I gave my impression of the president and the first lady, and T'Challa gave me some more tips for surviving the White House.  
'But please, Elissa,' he said at the end, 'promise me you'll try to make it a bit fun. It's good for you to be out of the palace.'  
My grin quieted to slight smile.  
'Sure. Challa. Miss you.'  
'I miss you too. Behave yourself,' I heard him chuckle before ending the call.  
'I'll try,' I said quietly, to no one.  
'I'll be retreating, James,' I announced, already halfway to the bedroom.  
'Good night, highness.'  
Once more I looked back when I was at the door. James seemed troubled, distracted. He smiled vaguely, though it was obvious his thoughts were somewhere far away.  
'Goodnight,' I said softly, and closed the door behind me.


	13. Chapter 13

After a late breakfast, I sat silently for a while, trying to think what I wanted to do. "Try to make a bit of fun", T'Challa had said. Well, what did "fun" mean, exactly.  
'Hey, James,' I called out, 'didn't Daniel say something about a Bowling Lane?'  
'I believe he mentioned one, highness.'  
'Yeah, I believe so too. Do you think you could find it?'  
'I don't think that'll be difficult, highness. The White House isn't exactly a maze.'  
'Good.' With resolution I rose. 'Then let's go bowling!'

It turned out there actually went skill into bowling. First of all, you had to start up the electronic lane, which wasn't that hard. I did typed my name wrong, and noticed too late. Elsa, it said. Well, I could be a ice queen, I thought. Then it was my first turn. There were balls with holes in them. Different coloured balls. Was there a difference? I shrugged to myself, taking a dark blue ball, finding myself almost collapse under the unexpected weight.

I tried really hard to walk to the white line with grace, holding myself as straight as possible. I put my fingers in the holes, wondering if it should hurt, and swung the ball backwards. The weight hit the wooden floor, rolled to the right, and immediately dug itself in the little gutter running along the lane.  
'Right…' I turned around, and smirked at Jams. 'You're turn.'  
He didn't laugh at me, but I did see how his eyes twinkled.  
Of course, he didn't throw the ball into the gutter, though he didn't do as well as I would have thought - only seven of the ten pins, knocking over two of the remainders during his second turn. Perhaps he had to get accustom to the weight.

My second try was just as bad, though because I had tried to compensate for my warp to the right, it now rolled away through the left channel. By now I had already accepted my faith: I was going to lose, badly.  
However, James' next try was barley better than the last - worse actually.  
I grinned, smirked, and then sighed, leaning back in my chair.  
'James, please be honest… are you going easy on me because I am the princess or because I'm horrible?'  
James shrugged as he walked towards me, ready to take his place in the soft seat. 'Neither. Because I have an unfair advantage, highness.'  
Happy he wasn't trying to deny his efforts to let me win, I laughed incredulously. 'That's nonsense! If I were you I would totally destroy me!'  
'If I were you, I wouldn't trust me.' Silence. That was the most personal thing he'd said to me so far. Weight settled in my stomach. 'Most people wouldn't.'  
But I wouldn't let this be. No, I wouldn't let him sulk in dark thoughts - those didn't help anyone. Believe, I could know.  
'Luckily for you, I am not like most people.' Intensely I glared at him, in a defiant manner.  
The corners of his mouth twirled upwards. 'No, you are not.'  
I frowned, bit my lip and smiled. 'I'm going to take that as a compliment.'  
Barnes bowed his head. 'It was, highness.'  
'So, we have two options, don't we? Either you're going to teach me how to do this, or this is going to be incredibly dull.'  
'Don't you like losing, highness?' His lips curled in a genuinely teasing smile.  
'I prefer winning, of course. But when that's out of the question - as it is here - I'd rather go down with style.'  
'No doubt you will.'  
'I might win!' I exclaimed indignantly, knowing there was no chance at all.  
James grinned. He took another bowling ball, this time with his left hand. Before his foot hit the white line, he looked back, raising an eyebrow, an expression on his face I had never seen on him before; relaxed, happy confidence. It suited him well.  
With one precise and powerful swing, he launched to ball over the lane, toppling all of the ten pins. They never had a chance.  
On the screen colours flickered, and the computer congratulated the player.  
I clapped loudly, laughing and amazed at the same time.  
'Well done! You just gave me extra points!'  
For the first time, James made a really big bow. 'You're welcome, highness.'  
'Don't worry, we'll reset the game,' I reassured him, before standing up. 'So… what's the secret?'  
'Well, highness,' James began, still that easy smile on his face. 'For one thing, you shouldn't pick the heaviest ball, that is if you want to have some control over it.'  
'There's a difference?'  
'Yes. Here,' he held out a brightly coloured pink one.  
I took it, expecting it to weigh me down immediately, like the previous ones had done. But it didn't. This one was actually of reasonable weight.  
'O, right. That's better. What now?'  
'Please stand here, highness.' So I did. He then started positioning me with gentle nudges. 'And now,' he continued, his voice quietly because he was standing closely, you should hold your hand like this, swing your arms backwards and, let go.' Again, I did as he said. The ball fell on the lane with a thud, rolling in a rather straight line. Not a perfect line. You couldn't align a rules with it like with James' move, but still. I knocked down five of the pins. Five!  
'Yess!' I balled my fist, celebrating my first points. I turned around. 'Did you see that, James? Did you see that?'  
'I did, highness. Well done.'  
'All right, all right,' I gave a little leap of excitement. 'Again, again!'  
We repeated the action. This time, I hit three pins.  
'I'm starting to like this game,' I grinned, stepping back so I could see the scoreboard. 'I'm still going to lose, but at least I like it.'

Again and again James guided my arm, making sure I got the ball to the end of the lane. Soon I was entirely engulfed in the game, and I was starting to get a feel for it. After a while he let go of me, and we found I had actually picked up what he had been trying to teach me.  
'You're a fast learner, highness,' James complimented me.  
'Thanks.' I was actually quite happy with myself. To me it felt like confirmation that I actually was worth something. 'You're a good teacher, I suppose. But now… I think it might be time for lunch, isn't it?'  
I let them bring a lunch for two up to my room, and James and I shared some delicious sandwiches.

While I was processing a rather big bite of salmon and cream cheese, I studied my protector. He seemed younger, I noticed. Somehow this morning had brought something… human to him. Yes, that was it; a humanising aspect that had been hidden by his mechanical behaviour.  
James caught me looking.  
'Is there something you need, highness?'  
'O no,' I smiled. 'I was just thinking what a wonderful morning I've had.'  
'Me too, me too.' For some reason he seemed surprised. Then he smiled at me, and with a happy feeling, we ate our food in silence.


	14. Chapter 14

'T'Challa,' I started speaking as soon as my friend had picked up the phone, 'I thought you said they knew I'm not here for anything political.'  
'Yes, they do.' Confusing filled his voice. 'What happened?'  
'O, nothing yet. But that Lady invited the Vice President and some secretaries for dinner. She said "she's gonna make it real special" .' I imitated her American accent for that last bit.  
'She probably just wants you to meet some people,' T'Challa tried to calm me. 'Perhaps they only wish to speak about the president's fishing.'  
'Ha. Ha. Ha.' Very much unamused I gripped the phone tighter. 'Please be serious, Challa. What should I do?' it was quiet for a moment.  
'Let them do the talking. Try to see what they want. Listen carefully. If they say something you don't like, but you don't know what to say, excuse yourself for the bathroom.'  
'Shutting up. Fleeing to the bathroom. Got it.'  
'You know that is not how I meant it,' T'Challa said softly.  
I sighted deeply. 'Yeah, I know. And it is good advice. It's just… no never mind.' I had want to start my "I will never be a good queen" rant, but thought better of it. It started to become pathetic. T'Challa was right; I had to listen to them, find out what they thought, what they wanted, how they think. Then I could figure out what to say for myself.  
'Thanks Challa.' In spite of my newfound "courage", I still sound glum.  
'You got this, El.'  
'I hope so. I really hope so.'

Thus I had to dress up again in the evening. By now I had gotten used to the people fussing around me to fix my appearance, though comfortable it never was. If only I could learn how to do my own hair and make-up the way they did it - but no. I would still be too lazy to do it. That's why I never wore any on regular basis. Too much effort.  
This time the dress was slightly longer, and deep blue. The jewellery was pretty, silver with small diamonds; around my neck, my wrists and hanging from my ears. The glittery stones were also on a hair band that had been woven through my hair, creating a rather complicated looking up do.  
'Look James,' I said grimly when the team was finally ready. 'This is my battle-gear.'  
James smiled. 'You look very dangerous, highness.'

As usual, my guard occupied his place behind me as I walked, and as I sat down at the dinner table. This time they had seated me on the far most right of the right side of the president - who was sitting at the head of the table. The side I was sitting on had been picked for his family, with his wife nearest, and his son next to me, and on the left side there were seats for the Vice President, and two secretaries.  
Hence I and Daniel were once again sitting near each other. At first I was afraid Daniel would come at me again. Surprisingly, he didn't. Indeed, he seemed a bit… scared. His eyes flashed between me and something behind him as he helped me sit down, and only smiled timidly. It wasn't hard to imagine what had happened. However, it was a bit harder not to laugh at the thought of it.  
The table got loaded with bowls and plates full of food. Immediately my scenes were overloaded by the smell and look of all the baked, cooked and (of course) fried foods. Many shades of brown were present, as were there various variations on the colour yellow ranging from white to gold. Green popped up now and again, alongside red and orange, and even some hints of purple. It was a real feast for the eyes and of course the nose -though even more so for the tongue.

As soon as they started passing around the various bowls and plates, the conversation drifted off to local and national unimportances. That comforted me, as I was safely listening from the side. It was when the glasses of wine had been emptied a couple times too many, that I got dragged into the game.  
'You know what I think?' the Vice president bellowed, already too far taken by the drink in his cup. Nobody asked him what he thought, nonetheless, he evidently thought he everybody needed to know. 'I think people should stop complaining you know? We're a democracy; they chose us. If we screw up, it's their fault: should've picked the other team if you think they can do it better. No need to whine about it afterwards.' The others nodded approvingly.  
'Yes, Gerald, exactly,' the president responded. His face was slightly glowing. 'It's not like they're stuck with us from the beginning. They had a choice.'  
'Done is done, except it and let go.' Gerald snorted. Then he did something highly unexpected; he turned to me. 'Don't you think so, highness?'  
Perhaps somebody that wasn't me would have taken this as a nice way to be involved in the conversation. I only heard the sneer.  
'I think that people expect that the politicians they choose do the things they promised before they were chosen. That they can expect in my opinion.' To me it sounded like a reasonably good formulated answer, especially considering the "surprise attack" which forced me to give it. The men around the table, however, didn't seem like they had heard me. They gave each other looks that conveyed something like: "children…" As if what I'd said, was complete nonsense.  
'Did you hear?' It was Richard speaking this time. 'They're thinking about lowering the age minimum for the presidency.'  
'What?' Gerald hit his hand on the table. 'Do they want children to run around in this house? We need adults to rule the world!'  
Again, all the others seemed to find themselves in what this angry man was saying. I kept eating quietly, while the steam seemed to come from my ears. If it went on for longer, I would lose my calm.  
I rose. 'I'm sorry,' I said, trying not to shake, 'could you please excuse me while I go to the bathroom?'

I took my time in the bathroom, hoping they would already have served desert before I came back to the table. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror for a long while, waiting to regain the control over my expression. No smirk. No scowl. A polite smile should be the only thing I showed. Politeness. Considering. Perhaps a bit of kind gratitude for the food they had served me. Absolutely no annoyance, disgust or anger.  
When I reopened the door to the bathroom, James was standing there as expected.  
'Do you think,' I muttered, making sure no one could hear me, 'I'd start a war if I threw my desert into Gerald's face?'  
A slight tremor moved the corners of James' mouth. 'I don't know about a war, highness. But I certainly think the Vice President of the United States will not enjoy being attacked with whipped cream covered fruits.'  
'Shame. I think it would look good on him.'

When returned to the table, I dug my elegant spoon in the ice cream, hoping they wouldn't bring me back into their conversation. Sadly, they did. Eventually.  
'So, what do you think?' The Vice President asked me, after he had held a long pause of their democratic system.  
For a moment I clenched my jaws together.  
'I think,' I said, cringing at the venomous sweetness in my voice, 'that it is not necessarily the system that is good or bad, it is the people that run it.'  
They were taken aback by this. Finally they looked at me with a less condescending look. Not for long, though.  
Gerald snorted. 'No, really. It's the system. Look at the results; we need order in this world, and that can't be if everyone "does it their own way".'


	15. Chapter 15

I felt humiliated. Utterly humiliated. Powerless had I listened how they had mocked my country, my family and me. How they had "subtly" told me I shouldn't be queen. That it wasn't right.  
It was too much. I managed to hold my head high until I was safely back in my room, where I fell down on the sofa and started crying. Out of pure frustration.  
James didn't even ask we what was wrong. He just sat down beside me, one hand lightly on my shoulder. I took off my shoes, fighting the tightness, and threw them across the room. Then I buried my face in James' suit.  
Why had they made me a laughingstock? Hadn't I tried to be a good guest, a polite visitor?

'You did well, highness.'  
'Well?' I squeaked pathetically, looking up at James with my face drenched by the tears still escaping from my eyes.  
'Yes.' The kindness he now expressed in his face, was all I needed. I longed for his words to let me know I wasn't a full disgrace. 'You didn't let them anger you. You were politer and more capable than any of them. As I said, highness. You'll be a good queen.'  
'Thanks.' I sniffed, pulling a particularly painfully bobby in from my hair. 'I'm happy at least one person thinks that.' I sighed. 'How am I going to face them tomorrow?'  
'As you did tonight: with dignity. So you can show them the value of your country.'  
It was good advice, though I still didn't sleep well. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see and hear their bellowing laughter, and I even had a short dream in which I shrunk, and drowned in a bowl of gravy. Needless to say I didn't feel like sleeping after that.

I hauled my pillow and blanket with me to the couch, and curled up with my laptop on my lap.  
'All right,' I muttered. 'I am going to google the shit out of this.'  
With "this", I meant the country I was fated to rule. Of course I had had history lessons and what not, but to be honest, most knowledge had been lost in time. The sheer force of determination kept me awake, because I would not let myself or my kingdom be humiliated this badly ever again.  
The Internet brought me back in time, even before the founding of Rome.  
During these times there was nothing of a Marerran kingdom, of course, only groupers of people living of the fertile grounds.  
Hunters and gatherers changed their ways of living, adapting the habit of living in permanent houses and cities. They lived more or less in harmony with each other, trading goods and foods, creating the beginning of our history. There were some quarrels between different tribes, but generally they tolerated each other.  
Then the romans came. They began their conquering journey in Rome, and were unstoppable for a long time. Not for my ancestors, however. Seeing how they knew how to live in the green lands, and also were powerfully people, they did not let themselves be conquered. After a while of trying to add the lands to their empire, the Romans realised this was never going to happen, and instead started working with them. In fact, there still were some traces of these old toga-wearing men. The most important one was the well in the middle of the courtyard of Marerra's palace. This had been built with the help of Romans, and had been preserved since. Many of the bricks used were probably unauthentic, but it was the story behind them that counted.  
Around that specific well, that is also mentioned in numerous myths and legends of our culture, the palace was build.

When I had travelled as far as the industrial revolution, James entered. At first I didn't notice him - I was way too focused on my screen to hear the door - and started when he spoke to me.  
'Have you even slept at all, highness?' All at the same time he sounded amused, annoyed and worried.  
'Who needs sleep when a kingdom requires saving?'  
James shook his head as I looked up to him. 'Unless a war broke that I haven't heard of yet and you are arranging the troupes on your computer, I don't see how you're saving your kingdom by sleep depriving yourself.'  
'I'm trying to learn something about my own country, so I am prepared when somebody starts insulting it again.' I returned my gaze to the screen.  
'That's a very noble mission, highness. But I do think you should eat something.'  
'Mhwe…' I made an uninterested noise. 'I don't feel like eating.'  
'Yet you will.'  
'Sure, sure,' I mumbled, not really listening. James didn't speak again, though he opened the door and spoke softly with (I assumed) the guards outside the door.

Five to ten minutes later, somebody knocked on the door, and James opened it. After I had heard the soft click of the lock again, James sat down beside me.  
He cleared his throat to get my attention.  
On tray he had put down between us, lay some different kind of rolls and croissants. All with delicious looking fillings - ranging from chocolate spread to strawberries.  
'You cheat,' I complained as I took a croissant with dark chocolate spread across it. The outside was crispy and flaky, the inside soft and warm.  
'The end justifies the means,' James grinned, looking content with himself.  
'Only if you eat too.' I pretended to look at him angrily. 'Or I'll spit it out.'  
'You won't, highness.' Nonetheless, he took a simple roll with raisins, and took a bite. I glanced back at my opened laptop.  
'You know what doesn't add up, James?'  
'What is it, highness?'  
With a lazy finger I scrolled down to a long time line.  
'How can all of this be so good? Like, of course there are accounts of bloody wars and bad things like slavery,' I now scrolled past a couple pictured showing the events I just mentioned, 'but not nearly as many as with other countries. It seems like it has been a wealthy country for a really long time.' I shut the laptop and turned back to James. A slight smile curled my lips. 'Almost like they made a pact with god-' now I tugged the blanket a bit closer, 'or the devil more likely.'

No answer, no answer at all. I figured it hadn't really been a question, or a statement on which James felt like he should comment. Yet when I looked up, he was looking rather thoughtful.  
My eyebrows shot up. 'What?'  
James shook his head, as if shooing away a thought or memory. 'Nothing, highness. Your country must have been very lucky.'  
'Yeah…' I wrapped my fingers around a glass of freshly made orange juice. 'Very lucky…'


	16. Chapter 16

I managed to survive the last couple days of my visit to The White House. It helped that Gerald, our "lovely" Vice President didn't come over for dinner again. Though the tension and awkwardness didn't go away after that one catastrophic dinner.  
On both sides there was quite some relief that I was leaving.

Never had the palace looked more beautiful than when I drove up to it from the private landing ground, after our plane had landed. It was only moments after sunrise, so the golden sun made the entirety look like a still from a fairy tale.  
Back at home another countdown clock restarted; only two more months to go to the coronation. Preparations were made of all kinds; turned out some kind of minister – all right, that's not kind of me to say, Minister Davitte was a really kind lady, and she had been uttermost respectful towards me when I met her, when I was about eleven – had launched a nationwide project for all sorts of artists to create the decorations for the route between the palace and the cathedral. People seemed to like the idea, and they seemed to look forwards to the grand feast of the coronation. Even though I didn't – and to me it was also my eighteenth birthday.

After I had settled back down in my daily "routine" (which, sure enough, did include running every morning – and yes, I was very proud of myself – while James gave tips on how to breath and hold my body) I also continued my research. Oddly, finding out more about the kingdom I was about to rule didn't reassure me. Indeed, it worried me more.  
'James,' I called out, with a restrained voice. 'I need you in here.'  
'What's wrong, highness?' It was after our usual round around the palace grounds so I had taken a shower, and sat on my bed with damp hair.  
I looked up, holding the laptop for him to see.  
'You tell me. These numbers, they're not right.'  
James came closer, inspecting the screen, and the numbers displayed on it. 'What's wrong with them, highness.'  
'Nothing.'  
'Nothing? I'm sorry, highness, how are they not if there's nothing wrong with them?' He frowned and seemed genuinely bewildered.  
'Exactly.' A grim smile appeared on my face. 'How can these numbers be the right numbers, if there's nothing, absolutely nothing, wrong with them?' I scrolled to a specific paragraph. 'Let's see. Marerra does not import energy from other countries, yet has plenty to go around. Also, our skies are clean, just like our waters. There is no downside to these numbers, which can't be correct. Our carbon emissions should be extreme, yet our reports say they aren't.' Frustration build up inside me, and I smacked the laptop shut. 'Can you explain this to me?' I leaned my head back so I could look at him. He kept his face a neutral mask.  
'I am sure there is an explanation for this, highness. Your country has done very-'  
'O, please,' I sighed, 'stop this nonsense. These numbers are false. Someone tempered with them, that's for sure. I only wonder how many people worked on this to get it in official UN reports.' With tense, circular motions I rubbed my forehead, trying to diminish my starting headache.  
'Highness…' a new gentleness rose in the guards' voice. 'You shouldn't think this badly about your own country. I am sure these reports weren't faked or created with fraud. If the numbers really aren't right, there must have been a mistake.'

I chewed my lip. Scanning his face, his eyes, trying to analyse his words. Since our midnight conversation he had shown more of himself. Thus I had improved in finding out what he was thinking.  
'You know something,' I concluded. 'You know something I don't know. What is it?'  
Naturally, I didn't get an answer. James looked at me, a bit sadly, I thought.  
'There is nothing I can tell you, highness.' Clever way to articulate the sentence. He didn't even admit to knowing something. Yet he didn't deny it, either.  
'All right,' my fingers tapped impatiently on the table, 'I see how it is. Well, if you know something about this country I don't, it must've been T'Challa telling you. Wasn't it?' Again, no reaction. 'Then I'll ask him.'  
I reached for my phone, but James put his hand on it before I could grab it.  
'Highness, please.' A little bit more stress on the "please", a little bit more urgency.  
'I'll take it you'll get in trouble if I call T'Challa?'  
'Certainly.' There was no fear in his face or voice, nor concern. But I had gotten used to his neutral expressions.  
'And I won't get answers, will I?'  
'I'm afraid not yet, highness.' Not yet – he had added that little word on purpose.  
'Not yet, so you promise I will get them?'  
'In time, highness. In time you will know everything.'

I took my time deciding if I should let it be. My eyes pierced him, attempting to read his thoughts.  
'All right,' I sighed eventually, 'I trust you. But I do want answers eventually. T'Challa is in on it, so it can't be that bad - or nothing I have ever believed is a lie. Let's hope that's not the case.' The way I know smirked up at James was the most painful smile I had ever given. Not only would ministers be involved if this was fraud, but also Janson, T'Challa, and my father.  
'Please, forget it, highness, you have enough to worry about.' He tried to soften me with a careful smile.  
I nodded, distressed, like I was most of the time recently. 'One could say that.'


	17. Chapter 17

'Happy birthday…'  
'Shut up…'  
Somebody laughed, shaking me gentle. 'Wake up, sleepy princess. It's your birthday!'  
'Great,' I muttered, 'then let me sleep.'  
'I can't' let you, sorry.'  
Again I groaned. This time I did open my eyes, and found myself looking at my pillow. I turned my head slightly, and saw T'Challa. He was grinning, and held a long, quite thin package.  
'Happy Birthday!'  
Grudgingly I sat up. 'Can't we skip today?'  
'I'm afraid not. But if you do not want my present…' he pretended to pull away the wrapped package he was holding.  
'I think I may want to take a look at that,' I muttered slyly. I might not have looked forward to this day, I did still enjoy that exited feeling you get when seeing a wrapped present. My hands itched to rip off the brightly coloured paper.  
T'Challa grinned, and handed me the package. It was heavier than I had expected.  
'Careful.'  
I ignored him, and started tearing the paper away. A beautiful, slick box was revealed. It was decorated with intricate carvings, and swirling golden and silver paint. Small, colourful gemstones completed the design, giving it a fantasy-ish feeling.  
Excitedly I looked up at T'Challa. He gestured for me to continue, so I did. I flicked the small mechanism keeping the box closed, and carefully lifted the lid.  
I gasped when I saw the contents; a beautiful, shining sword, with a hilt decorated more beautifully than the outside of the box. I took it out, and felt it was perfectly balanced. The blade had been polished well enough, that I could see my own reflection in it.  
'My God, T'Challa, it is beautiful!' I wanted to jump up and give him a hug, but he ducked away.  
'Please, put that sword back down. I would rather not lose my head.' But he was grinning. I was beaming. The weapon was marvellous, and an incredibly amazing present.  
I placed it back, and hugged T'Challa with enthusiastic force.  
'Thank you. Thank you so much.'  
I might have grasped him a bit tighter than I normally would have done, if this had been a… "normal" birthday. T'Challa, too, held on to me in an emotional kind of way.  
'Is it okay I still see you as my little princess?'  
'I hope I never stop being her.'

Seeing the coronation would start until late afternoon, I didn't hoist myself into the coronation gown. Instead, I dressed myself in a simple white, billowing skirt and a deep purple blouse.  
When I left the bedroom, James was waiting behind the door. He, too, was clutching a wrapped package. Though his was covered in paper with soft colours, and his present looked a more regular size.  
'Happy birthday, highness,' he smiled quietly. He handed me the present. I was a bit stunned, actually; I hadn't expected him to give me anything. The idea hadn't even crossed my mind, to be honest.  
'Thank you.'  
I sat down. Before ripping the paper, I read the little card that he had attacked to the package with a thin string.

 _Dear Highness,_

 _I wish you a very happy birthday._  
I have doubted a long time if I should give you something, because it won't be the "proper" thing to do. But then I realised you deserve it, so here it is.  
This won't be as spectacular as I wished I could give you, but I hope it will please you nonetheless.  
The book is new, the movie is old. It's actually from my time. I remember a time this was the most astonishing thing I had lain my eyes on. So therefore I hope it may bring you some of the wonder I felt, when I saw it.  
Please remember, that whatever anyone might say, you are a strong woman, and a good person. People that speak badly about you, don't know you. I have had the honour to not only meet you, but also to get to know you. And I've come to see, that you will make an amazing queen.

 _Yours truly,_

 _James_

I stared at the card for a while. It didn't occur to me I had already read all the words. And it took even more time for me to realise this… wonderful message wasn't the present. That it had only been an accessory to the gift.  
I put it aside, my hands shaking lightly, and my eyes tingling, promising myself to treasure that little card.  
When I had ripped away the paper, I was holding a beautiful, colourful book, with reflection golden letters spelling "Fantasia". Underneath the curling letters, Mickey Mouse was standing dressed in red robes, and a blue wizard's hat covered with white stars.  
After opening it, I marvelled at the incredible pictures printed on thick paper. There were scans of original drawings and notes on the movie, and excerpts of the original films itself. From beginning to end, it was filled with the story of how this movie came to be, but also with brightly coloured, high-resolution images that could amuse me for at least a day.  
'Thank you.' I tore my gaze from the book. 'Thank you James. This is really… special.'  
James seemed relieved. How could he have ever thought I wouldn't like it? I loved smiled, and gave me that little bow, but a little bit more freely than he normally did.

That moment, T'Challa returned to the room, followed by two maids carrying large platters of food. They put it on the table, curtsied and left.  
'I thought it would be nice to eat it up here,' he explained.  
'Very nice,' I nodded gratefully, folding some of the wrapping paper back around the book and depositing it on the couch.  
When I had sat down, I gestured for James to join us, so he did, and with the three of us, we started emptying the trays. Between two bites of pancakes with whipped cream, I looked around the table.  
'So, today is the day, huh?'  
Both T'Challa and James nodded. They both smiled. Evidently, they both wished to comfort me.  
Today was the day. I felt a weird nausea in the pit of my stomach. Today was the day.


	18. Chapter 18

Luckily, I had at least half the day to myself. So I walked around the gardens with T'Challa and James, enjoying the soft weather and warm sun. Tonight, however, there would be a colder wind. Hopefully I would be inside the cathedral before it arrived.  
Not being able to stop myself, I had a go at swinging my new sword around like I was some sort of fairy tale heroin, until I almost cut off my own feet, and T'Challa and James no longer let me handle it. Then they took turns, and showed me how it was done. Seeing as they were both highly skilled fighters, they knew how to handle a weapon.  
I used these last moments of freedom to feel as normal as I could. Now there wasn't a crown on my head, literally or figuratively. For now, I was "just" a princess.

We had an early lunch. That way, the preparation could start early. Once more Janson went over all that would happen and all I would have to do. I nodded, not really listening; we had gone over this dozens of times the past two months. I could probably fall asleep, and my body would still do all that had to be done.  
Getting me into the coronation gown was quite the adventure. It was the most intricate, beautiful and frightening dress I had ever seen. Intricate because of all the different pieces of fabric sewn together, and the many silver and golden patters embroidered on both the skirt, sleeves and torso. Beautiful because of the deep purple colour and the soft, flowy fabric. Frightening because of the long sleeves and the wide, billowing skirt with long train. It just screamed, "trip on me, trip on me!"  
The moment I would step into the cathedral, someone would wrap the official cloak around me, before I walked up to the Bishop, who would perform the crowning.  
Though first, I would leave the palace in a golden carriage, gorgeously decorated with gold and silver ivy.

I was staring at this wonderful vehicle when footsteps woke me from a panicky daze. 'Hey, I have to go.' I nodded. T'Challa had to sit inside the cathedral before I arrived. Immediately I recalled a similar good buy, only three months ago. I forced the memories down. Tears were not something I could use at the moment.  
'Good luck, Elissa. You are going to do great.'  
'Thanks,' I sighed, already practising my "I'm fine, but not really" smile. T'Challa hugged me, making sure he didn't ruin my neatly styled hair.  
'Look at you,' T'Challa looked at me melancholy. 'My little girl, all grown up.'  
I curtsied. 'When we meet again, we can play chess in real life.'  
He chuckled softly. 'Then we both will be missing a piece.'  
'Well, then I can never stand checkmate, can I?'

Continuing my déjà vu, James helped in the carriage after T'Challa had left. This time, I wasn't hidden behind tinted windows. I wasn't only fully visible, I also had to smile, and look regal. The horses didn't go very fast; this was nice for James, who had to walk beside the carriage on the street, but it meant that I had extra time to be exposed to the gaze of hundreds, perhaps thousands of people.  
Many of them were wearing purple, and waving flags, and yelling, and grinning, and waving, and some were even singing. The streets had indeed been decorated in the most fascinating and impressive ways, raining from knitted flags and tapestries hanging down from houses to gorgeous illustrations on facades. Everywhere I looked, the flag and symbols of Marerra shone, colouring the streets even more purple and gold. The sun, that was already setting swiftly, cast a red and gold glow on the whole.  
The people all seemed happy. However , I couldn't help but wonder how some of them really thought of me. An eighteen year old girl, becoming their official head of state. There must be many people that objected.  
My stomach contracted when I thought about all those people in the cathedral. Because those wouldn't be celebrating a national happening. They would be attending the initiation of a young girl into their ranks. And I knew exactly how many of them thought about me; they had made it very clear.

My gaze went over the crowd, not seeing a single face. They were only small specks, skin-coloured dots against a sea of purple. Then I looked at James. He nodded reassuringly. I tried to draw some courage from that kind gesture.  
Suddenly, James' eyes flickered to somewhere in the crowd. His entire body stiffened. Then everything happened too fast.  
James' first jumped into the carriage, dragging me down. I shrieked, but not loud enough to drown out the loud bang that erupted. Many people started screaming. And running; as a major tide wave, the crowd came into motion, scattering in a frenzy. The fences that had separated the mass and the road, were trampled. More shots rang out, and I realised I was laying with my head on the ground.  
'Highness, are you hurt?'  
It was James' voice. He sounded urgent.  
'I- no. I'm okay, I guess.'  
'Good.' There was a short moment in which I could hear the rampage. 'I need you to come with me. I'll count down, and you need to run. Understood?'  
'Yes, yes.' I nodded dazed. I had to run. I got that.  
'Three… two… one…'  
He grabbed my arm, and pulled me from the carriage. While we waded through the hysteric crowd, he used his body to shield me, and simultaneously made sure I was running faster than I had ever done in my life.  
Breathe, I thought. Breathe, I had to breathe. The moment I thought that, I gasped. Oxygen seemed to return to my brains, and I could think more clearly. There was a small alley up ahead. We made it to the alley. We made it past it. Until the screaming and running footsteps seemed nothing more than background noise.  
One particularly loud gunshot made me look back. Immediately I regretted it; a limp, lifeless body fell down. It fell in a weird, diagonal way, as if they had jumped before the bullet hit them. Then it struck me; that bullet would have hit me. That person jumped, for me.

Apparently James had noticed this, too, because he inched even closer to me. He took me down many alleys, turn after turn, until it dazzled me. I couldn't remember how long we had been running, and in which direction, until the sun lowered behind the invisible horizon, and darkness came upon the city.  
The once festive looking streets became deserted, and everybody fled into their homes. The silence that followed the dark was eerie and gloomy. A couple times we almost ran into dark figures carrying heavy weaponry, which we could only avoid. Other times we ran past dark silhouettes laying in the dark. The moon revealed itself during a few of those moments, gleaming light off the familiar uniforms of police agents and royal guards. It would have stopped me dead in my tracks, if James hadn't made sure I kept going. The images of corpses had burned themselves on my retina.

Eventually we had to stop, I thought. We couldn't run forever. We would run into the people that had done this.  
Whoever they were. Whatever they wanted.  
But for now we ran, while my thoughts whirled, and my heart beat louder and louder.  
The night became thicker, and shadows grew. Saluport, the once bright city of Marerra, had become a ghost town.


	19. Chapter 19

'Highness, you need to know something.'  
After we had ducked inside an abandoned warehouse, James tried to get my attention. However, I was still staring into an abyss, with my eyes widened. My mind kept replaying the recent events.  
'How to make sure nobody else dies? I'd would very much like to know that!' I shrieked. Trembling. Clamping my hands together, with my nails digging in my own skin.  
'Highness, you really have to listen to me.'

I didn't listen at all. Instead, I kept looking around, trying to come up with a way to fix the mess we'd landed in. 'No, no… I need to get to T'Challa. He'll know how to secure the area. Whatever these rebels want-'  
'Elissa!' he didn't shout, not really. But his usage of my name was enough to shut me up. James took me by my arms so I would look at him. 'Elissa, please, you have to listen to me. These are not rebels. They are part of an organisation called THEMIS '  
'THEMIS…order…' I stuttered. 'I have never heard of that.'  
'That's because it is top secret information, and you weren't supposed to learn about it until after the coronation, when you're officially queen. They can even execute me for telling you this, but you've got the right to know… Especially considering the circumstances…' He didn't even wait for my response. 'THEMIS contains people from many underground organisations. It was founded as part of HYDRA, but grew and left when many members of other terrorist groups joined. All they want is power, to create their world of order.  
They plan on using treasures hidden in your country, Elissa. In the vaults underneath your palace.'

The flood of words dizzied me. I slumped down on a splintery crate.  
'Vaults? We only have a bunker…'  
James sat down on the crate beside mine.  
'That's what everybody's supposed to think. There are many vaults there, filled with very valuable, very dangerous goods. Even special weaponry that countries like America want to store away safely.'  
America? We were their safeguards, and still they had treated me that badly? Immense indignation flared up inside me.  
'Why don't they do it themselves?'  
'It's your countries history. You said this country must be blessed by the gods, and it is. Marerra has had a long connection with the people of Asgard. That's why it has always been wealthy and prosperous. And that's why the vaults are made with Asgardian technologies.'

Finally he was silent for moment, allowing me to proses all he had said. A bunch of information, that didn't seem to make sense in my head. Yes, I had seen the videos of the Asgardian people fighting battles on our grounds, but seeing it on screen made it no more real than seeing Luke Skywalker swing his lighters. Pixels on a screen. Not that different.  
T'Challa's skills were more than weird enough.  
'Asgardian technologies… 'You mean magic.'  
In a very tired way James' mouth turned into a smile.  
'Most people prefer the term Asgardian technology.'  
'Yeah, but that means magic, right?' I urged. 'And they have given us more magic, haven't they?'  
'I'm afraid so. It's a small energy source. That is, in comparison with the other alien energy sources that we've seen on earth before. THEMIS wants it.'  
'Shit,' I muttered. My foot kicked backwards against the crappy wood. Something snapped. 'Shit.' Why? Why couldn't I be queen of a normal country? Why did my country have ancient secrets with magic? 'Why Marerra?'  
Some sound echoed through the warehouse. A weird, fluttering sound. James' head snapped around. Immediately he was standing again. A small, winged creature emerged from the dark, and hurtled over our heads. Just a bat.  
'Most stories say it was the marriage between an Asgardian royal and Marerra's queen.'  
'Obviously,' I rolled my eyes, 'the dramatic love story between a human and a god. Why not make me the grand-grand-grand-grand-grand daughter of a god?'

More sounds in the background. Now I rose too. James moved very close, already positioning himself as my living shield.  
'Why can't they help us now? They got us in trouble in the first place.' I hissed, nervously studying the dark.  
'It's not that easy, Elissa. We can't summon them whenever we want.' His eyes screened the darkness around us. His voice became even quieter. 'We have to keep moving. The palace must be secure.'  
'Great idea.' Even through my whispered tone the sarcasm was explicit. 'Yes, very good idea. One little problem: we're surrounded by people who want to kill us, and we've got no way to get there!'  
Instead of snapping back at me, James only put his arm around me, and pushed me with him as he went around the room. Annoyed he hadn't responded, I huffed silently. I knew that I was only behaving like this because it helped me forget my fear. Anger stopped me from thinking about what was really happening.

Eventually - when we had almost reached the spot we had started walking - James stopped, and wrapped his hands around a large, damaged rag, and whisked it away. Underneath, as it turned out, stood an old motorcycle, covered in dust. When James traced his hand along the hide, the words "Harley-Davidson" appeared.  
'Does it work?' I asked, a bit awed. It seemed unlikely we would be so lucky.  
'No,' James crouched down, 'but I can fix it.'  
Immediately he started fidgeting, turning screws and tugging at metal parts. He did it with quick efficiency, and it seemed like he had clear ideas on what was wrong with it.  
'Should I… should I stand guard?'  
'No. Stay here.'  
Then the other side of the motorcycle was inspected. I wasn't really sure what he had done to the vehicle - I was too busy thinking I heard or saw something in the shadows. Eventually, a low, rumbling sound erupted from the Harley-Davidson.  
'The moment we come out of this building, we'll draw the attention to ourselves. I need you to keep your eyes open.'  
I nodded determined. 'Got it.'  
James sat down on the motorcycle. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes kept darting around. Yet, somehow he seemed in place, with his hair wilder than before, some strands honing in front of his face, and the determined gleam in his eyes. He held out his hand. Holding on to his strong arm, I got up after him.


	20. Chapter 20

Not five seconds after I mounted the motor roared to life, and sped away. With all my might I clamped my arms around James middle squeezing my eyes closed at first. Then I remembered I had to be on the lookout.  
Dark silhouettes of houses flashed by. All had extinguished their lights. No doubt everyone was cowering inside, praying they would be left alone. The wind drained out any sound apart from the bellowing of our vehicle, and the booming of my heartbeat. Icy cold drizzly froze my face , which was burning.  
James leaned in with every turn, swirling the motorcycle closely around corners. I tightened my grip. Clouds shifted. The moon appeared. In front of it, I saw the dark silhouettes of the steeples of the palace. We were coming closer and closer.

Out of nothing it seemed, bright headlights appeared, blinding my already squinted eyes. The tires shrieked as James hit the brakes. He jerked the handles aside. The bike swerved to the right into a narrow alleyway. The rear hit a wall, and I almost lost my grip. We kept on speeding ahead, until I noticed how we slowed down, and it felt like I was sinking. James cursed.  
What he did next, I almost couldn't believe. He released the handlebars, but not before accelerating one alts time. Then he turned around, gripped me, raised me from the back of the motorcycle, and jumped.

It felt like we flew through the sky for minutes, while in reality we hit the ground almost instantly. Instead of the painful crash I had expected, I only felt a bad thump; James had his arms wrapped around me, and it was his back that hit the ground. We rolled over a couple times. Before I could realise what had happened, James tugged me upright. He took me to the end of the alley, and pushed me against the wall, so I was looking at him.  
'Elissa, listen to me,' James gripped my arms again, his eyes stern and determined. 'If I say you run, you run. Understood?'  
Finally losing some of the daze, I crossed my arms, defiantly.  
'I'm not leaving you,' I simply responded.  
'Damn it, Elissa! ' James cursed. 'This is my own fault,' he then muttered to himself.  
'What?'  
James shook his head. 'You care about me, don't you.'  
Was that even a question. 'So what?' I dared him.  
The sadness that followed in those steel blue eyes startled me.  
'I've been selfish, Elissa. My job was to protect you, at all costs. I can't do that if you don't let me – if you care.'  
My defiance fell off.  
'I needed you- I need you! I was alone!'  
'Yes, and I should've told king T'Challa, not bring myself closer to you.' The frustrated manner told me he had gone over this a million times in his head.  
I would not accept saying goodbye. 'It's too late now – done is done.'  
His eyes fixed mine again. 'Yes, and that's why you must listen to me. If I tell you, you must run. Directly to the palace, do you understand?  
My shoulders slumped. 'But you…'

Sounds came from behind us. James looked back, then flashed me a desperate look.  
'You're too important. I won't be missed.'  
My mouth fell open. 'Yes, yes you will! I will miss you, James!'  
'Then it will be my honour to be missed by you, highness.' And with a melancholy smile on his face, he bowed. I watched in fear as loud footsteps echoed behind us. James looked at me one more time.  
"Run" he mouthed. He tuned, and ran towards the noise. Momentarily I stood frozen. Then some sense came back to me; I had to go.

When I rounded the corner, I could see the palace through a small gap between two large houses. It seemed so very small, and so far away. If I could make it to that gap, if I could only (wring) myself through it, I might reach the palace. Perhaps guards defending the palace would see me, and come for me. Maybe even T'Challa. I could tell them where James was, and they could help him. Because one thing I knew for sure: I would not leave him behind.  
Behind me footsteps grew louder and louder. They were rough and almost like a beast's; not at all like James. I knew I shouldn't look around; if I looked around, I would slow down, and they'd catch me.  
Was it my own loud breathing I heard? No. I panicked. Somebody was breathing in my neck.

Suddenly, a heavy weight plummeted in my back, dragging me to the ground. I hit my head, and the world twirled around me. A strange voiced called out triumphantly. I started to struggle. Rough arms jerked my arms behind me, tugging me upright in the same motion.  
'Get off me, get off me!' I yelled, kicked backwards and tugging at my own arms. It seemed to have no effect. The bloke behind me only laughed, and shook me brutally. The motion only worsened the headache my fall had caused. Without effort he started dragging me backwards, back to the alleyways I had been trying to escape. Muffled grunts and yells erupted from the darkness.  
'Just shoot him!' the loud voice made my ears ring.  
'No!' I screamed, knowing full well whom they meant. 'James, get out!'  
Another laugh came from behind me. 'Shoot'm guys.' Brisk hands turned my head. In horror I had to watch as a trigger was pulled. A shot rang out. James slumped to the ground.  
'No!' I screamed, kicking and fighting to get to him. 'James!'

In the dark I couldn't see if he was moving. If he was even breathing anymore. Another shadow came closer to him, gun outstretched. When he was very close, he rose his hand again. As in slow-motion he pulled the trigger again. My heart stopped when eerie silence of the night was broken by another crack of the gun.  
'No! NO!'  
'Show's over, princess,' my captor breathed in my neck. A sharp, stabbing pain in my neck. It drilled down through my bones. My arms fell down. My voice fell silent. The darkness of the .  
'Please, James,' was my final thought. 'Don't die on me.'


	21. Chapter 21

Everything was dark when I woke up. At first I thought I had gone blind, then I realised a thick, musty cotton bag had been dragged over my head. I tried to breath, and started couching. Immediately people around me started laughing.  
'Seems our little princes is awake.' It was the same, foul voice that had rasped in my ear. The same voice that had ordered to kill James…  
I was temporarily blinded when the bag disappeared. I blinked violently. A dark, dingy room, barely lit except for a couple construction lights, that flared straight into my eyes. It prevented me from getting a better look of the room, so I resorted to studying the things in closer proximity.  
I found that I was bound to a wooden chair. Strong, metal cuffs were clamped around my wrists. Thick electricity threads sprouted from them, connecting me to two incredibly heavy looking batteries.  
'Is everything to your liking, majesty?' A dark silhouette appeared against one of the blinding lights. Mockery dripped from every word. Even worse than in the alley.

The giant came closer, showing off his broad figure against the blindingly white background. I glared at him, hoping every bit of loathing I felt for him was evident.  
'What?' he grinned. 'No, "o, please, don't hurt me! I'll give you anything", or "who are you, what do you want"?'  
'I know who you are.'  
'Really? That makes all of this easier, because we know who you are, too. And what you have that we want.'  
I clenched my jaw together. I knew, too. And judging by the shackles around my arms, they were not going to stop until I had given it to them.  
The man sighed, as if our "conversation" bored him.  
'Let's not shy away from the truth. You have a vault, we want in. If we don't get what we want, you get pain. Easy enough, isn't it?'  
Simple enough, indeed. Pleasant? Not really. Was I afraid? Yes. I was terrified. But I was also frozen inside. I hadn't really processed everything that had happened yet. Thus my heart was paralysed. And so the fear was kept on a distance.  
'You already had a little preview. But let's refresh your memory.' He held up a little device. It looked most like a remote, with a couple buttons, of which one was bigger than the rest. His big thumb inched closer to the scarlet button, and then pressed it with immense force.  
I gasped when an electric shock rippled through me. It shot from my arms to my torso to my head and my legs.  
While I was breathing heavily, a voice from behind the lamps called out. 'Camera's ready.'  
'Good. Turn it on. She's ready.'

A soft click, during which I tried to find its source. I couldn't, as it was out of sight.  
'Let's see if your little friends are watching.' The man that had been speaking to me came closer. Roughly, he hang something around my neck. Looking down, I could see a thin plank of wood, connected to the robe that scraped my neck. On the plaque, I could distinguish numbers.  
I was startled when my captor put his hand on my shoulder. I shrunk away from him. He was looking in between two lights, seeming rather pleased.  
'If you're watching, just dial this number. I think you will want to… talk.'  
Indeed, no sooner had he said this, a phone rang out. The brute (that's what I decided to call him) answered.  
'Glad you've noticed us. Yeah, yeah. Leave the princess alone. I thought you'd say that. No, really. I think you also know what I want. No? All right. Remember, you made me do this.'  
He turned to me, and raised his hand containing the remote. Knowing what would come, I clenched my fists, and held my breath.  
The shock was just as painful this time. It felt like he even increased the voltage. However , this time I expected the pain, so I stopped myself from showing it.  
'Well, well, she's being tough. One more, then?'  
Again, electricity ran through me. I let out a little gasp; the shock was even stronger than before.  
'So, to make things clear - as I already made them clear to your little princess here -, every time I don't get what I want, she gets hurt. And every time, I'll… turn up the heat.' He grinned, apparently very content with himself. 'Until she can't handle it anymore. Then our time is up.'  
To prove his point, he pressed the button again. Then he stuffed some dirty rag in my mouth, before he turned away from me.  
'All right then. The vaults.'

The brute started to negotiate, summing up what he wanted; aces to the palace. All the guards had to leave, so they could go as they pleased. Of course he needed aces to the vaults, and assurance he could get out of the city if he was done. This was as much as I heard. During this conversation, energy ran through me a couple more times, every time causing more and more pain. Hiding my desperation and wish for it to stop became more and more difficult.  
Please, I thought, looking up, make it stop.

Tears were trying to force their way out of my eyes, and screams worked their way up my throat. My eyesight blurred, my ears started ringing. Soon, the pain was unbearable, and nearly the only thing I was still aware of.  
Can't you just surrender? A little voice said in my head. Can't you just tell the camera they should give him what he wanted, or tell him to kill me? Whoever was talking to the brute, they could probably end this. Janson, or maybe T'Challa…  
This single thought shut up the little voice. T'Challa might be watching. It was even probable. And if it had been him, he wouldn't beg. He wouldn't let them see his weakness. Didn't I always wonder "what would T'Challa do"?  
Well, this was a matter of politics. In a strange, twisted way. The Brute probably thought he was doing the world a favour. That creating this state of order would be an improvement to the current state of the world.  
So I screwed up my face, and twisted my mouth, until I spat out the rag. My body deadly still, I stared into the camera.  
'Never give them what they want,' I uttered, putting all my efforts in making myself audible. 'Vivat Marerra!'


	22. Chapter 22

As soon as I had spoken, the brute turned around, finally looking affected. Anger and irritation flashed across his face, and he drummed his fingers aggressively on the remote.  
A wave of scorching pain rushed through every cell in my body. My sight and hearing were temporarily taken from me. When I regained some of my consciousness, I breathed shallowly, trying to see something through the tangled mess of hair in front of my face.  
'Looks like she can't stand much more of this bullshit,' the brute said grimly to the camera. 'Just give us what we want. I don't think you have much of a choice.'  
Whatever they did next, he would kill me. I was very well aware of that. Sooner or later, the end would come.

A loud yell rang out from behind the enormous lights. A dark figure jumped at me, wrapping his hands around the thick wires erupting from the shackles around my wrist. With a grunt he ripped them out.  
Then he yelled out when a shock pulsed through him. Breathing heavily, he let go of the wires, half standing, half sitting on the ground, leaning with his palms on the bare concrete.  
Before my eyes could focus on the attackers face, he pushed himself off the floor, and propelled himself at the brute. What happened next, happened too fast for my damaged mind.  
There was a fight, a struggle, between the figure and the brute. Some other men tried to get to them, and some tried to get to me. None of them succeeded. Eventually I could see a gun shimmer in the dark, a gun that had its trigger pulled. A gun that let out a sound loud enough to bring me a little closer to the surface. A gun that shot a bullet.  
One of the fighters fell down. In horror I watched as the victor staggered towards me. Slowly, the I could make out his face.  
'James…' I gasped. Relief surged through me. My heart leaped of joy, and I let my head fall back. 'James…' I heard a soft thump. James had fallen to his knees, looking more damaged than I had realised at first glance.  
'James?'

He looked back up at me. Dark strands of hair blocked much of his face, but I could make out his eyes between them. They were the eyes of an exhausted man. Exhausted, broken and in pain. The eyes of someone who wanted nothing more than passing out. However, he did not.  
'Elissa,' he breathed, 'are you okay?'  
'Am I okay?' I asked, in a voice between hysteric laughter and a cry of relief. 'You were dead!'  
James shook his head. A soft smile appeared on his face. With what seemed a lot of effort, he got up, and removed the metal shackles from my arms. The moment I was free, I threw myself at him, and crushed him in a choking embrace.  
'I thought you were dead,' I repeated, now really crying out of relief. Nothing had ever felt better than his two arms around me.  
'Not as long as you need me.'  
His breath stroked my scalp, and I shivered.  
'You need medical attention,' James muttered. He used his body to shield my eyes from the many bodies spread across the floor, and the assortment of weapons that lay scattered – many of which James himself had carried with him.  
'What? No!' I protested. Though as soon as I had said it, I collapsed.

Thus, two people, who both could barely walk, had to drag themselves onto the street. It was a painful journey. My muscles still didn't respond properly to my will, and James clamped his free arm against his chest.  
When we were halfway through the maze of corridors, a couple figures appeared on the other side. At least half of them were carrying guns. At the sight of those my heart froze; not again.  
'Elissa!'  
'T'Challa!'  
No more than two seconds later, T'Challa's warm hands gripped me, hugging me. I started crying again.  
'Help James. James needs help,' I managed to utter before collapsing again. T'Challa carried me outside, where dozens of people were waiting. Most wore combat outfits, though there were also many doctors and other medical workers.

They put me on a stretcher. Immediately at least five different white coats surrounded me, checking my vitals, concluding that I wasn't in mortal danger, though my "shock therapy" hadn't done me much good either.  
'Where's James? Is James okay?' I clasped T'Challa's arm. He smiled reassuringly.  
'Yes, there he is. They are stitching him up.'  
I turned my head, and saw James sit on another stretcher, as a doctor was indeed using a needle and thread to seal a round hole in his chest.  
'Apparently he got the bullet out himself,' T'Challa said, a bit awestruck. 'That man should not be walking, let alone have saved you, Elissa.' Then he saw my face. 'But he is going to be fine, El. I just meant that he has immense willpower to go on with so much pain.'  
'Much willpower,' I nodded. I lifted one hand and waved wearily when James' looked at me. He smiled, and waved back.  
'I'm sorry, Elissa,' T'Challa muttered guiltily. 'I should have found you sooner, but-'  
I stopped him before he could continue whatever silly apology he was about to give.  
'Nothing of this is your fault, T'Challa. Period. You understand?'  
'Loud and clear, queen Elissa.'  
'I'm not queen yet, Challa.' My muttering became quieter and quieter the longer our conversation lasted.  
'I saw the… video, Elissa. Coronation or not, you are queen.'

T'Challa gripped my hand tightly, looking worried, relieved and proud all at the same time. James appeared in sight, too. A same kind of expression was painted onto his face. Some doctor came forwards, injection a clear substance into my arm. Drowsiness came over me. I closed my eyes.  
They were safe. It was over. I could rest.

Epilogue

Trumpets blared. A crowd cheered. People called out my name.  
I was too nervous to smile when I stepped down from the carriage. James was holding my hand tightly. This time, the trip had gone smoothly. Even more guards had been on the lookout, unnecessarily so. As far as we knew, every last member of THEMIS had been captured - with the help of some of James' friends from America. They were her today, too. For some reason everyone tried to ensure my safety.

Inside the cathedral, a posh looking woman put the royal cloak around me, before I stepped forwards, passing the rows and rows of heads of state. I glance around. To my surprise, none of them wore the expression of masked disapproval I had anticipated. Instead, all of them seemed to think me equal. Some of them even seemed to be in awe.  
Encouraged by this positive welcome, I strode to the golden throne in front of the seats. James took his place behind me. It all went smoothly. I didn't even stutter, or mispronounce a single word of my oath. Nor did I waver when the heavy crown was placed upon my head. Or was it that heavy? It seemed so much lighter than I had anticipated.

When the Bishop had spoken his lasts words, it seemed a dark lens fell away. As if I had been wearing dark glasses, that had obstructed me from seeing the world as it really was. T'Challa was the one member of the audience that stood out to me. His bright smile was like a solidified beam of sunlight, brought here especially for me. He was so proud, more so than I could have ever been.  
"I thought I stood checkmate, Elissa. I thought they had taken my queen."  
That's what he had said to me, when I woke up inside the hospital.  
"They captured you, but you are truly unbeatable. Your parents would be very proud."

Indeed, they had not beaten me. Though it had taken me some time to not only recover from my physical wounds, but also from the mental ones. Especially gathering up the courage to repeat that disastrous voyage. However, I had not been alone.  
THEMIS might have taken my father, (days after the attack they found proof that my father had indeed been poisoned) but T'Challa had been left on my side, and James had been brought to me as well.  
Knowing one was standing before me, and one was standing behind me, gave me enough strength to do this. All three of us had suffered loss, and pain, and separation from those we loved. And all three had gotten through it, in our own unique way, for our own, unique reasons.  
And all three of us had come out of it stronger than ever before.

The guests rose, every single one of them. A sea of colours, both in clothing and in skin. They looked up at me, and then called out, in one, loud voice:  
'Long live the Marerran queen! Long live queen Elissa!'


End file.
